


Starblood

by contagiousiridescence



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, F/F, Princess and Knight AU, Princess and Princess AU, Royal Fantasy AU, alternating pov, artistic liberty of adaption of canon, diana prince is mentioned/alluded to, it's going to try to be a slow burn, no aliens or space travel but MAGIC, plot heavy, rating will change as needed for mature themes, sort of middle ages but honestly I have no set time period this is based on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 49,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contagiousiridescence/pseuds/contagiousiridescence
Summary: The kingdom of Metropolis is suffering, and the fact that Lena is set to inherit the throne isn't helping the situation. With Lillian as Queen until Lena's coronation, there is little Lena can do to help-- but she sets a plan in motion to save her kingdom after learning of a mysterious being with powers that had once belonged only in storybooks. She will stop at nothing to ensure that her people survive.The kingdom of Krypton has met its demise. Kara Zor-El, the Princess of a dead country, returns to Metropolis after years of training far away, only to find it under siege by bizarre monsters. Emboldened by her powers, she determines to provide whatever help she can to see that the Luthor Kingdom does not meet the same end as her own-- only, she finds that dealing with the Luthors themselves is a whole other beast.Together, they must discover what it means to protect an entire kingdom, or else lose what is most precious to them forever.





	1. Chapter 1

Lena gazed long and hard at the book left open on her father’s desk. The King’s desk. It was an old tome, with a tattered binding that had once been covered in a sleek, rich fabric, but now was so worn that the material was threadbare and the color nearly gray from age. The leather spine was cracked and stained by the oils of various hands over the years. Each page was stiff and yellowed, and as she slipped a page over with the pad of her finger, it almost felt as though it was going to crumble to dust under her touch. This book had seen better years, some of which she remembered. It was her brother’s fault, really, that it was left in such miserable shape. 

_ Gods Among Men _ , it was titled. Or had been, her brother told her, but the gold-pressed lettering had rubbed off from Lex’s increasingly rough handlings over time. The name of the author was unknown to her for the same reasons, but she had a feeling that knowing his name wouldn’t have made a difference. Her glance fell to the note at the bottom of the current page. All handwritten, in neat, elegant scrawl, read:

 

“Born of Light, these Men who walk the Earth, with skin of steel and blood of stars. Burning bright, to whom the Sun has giv’n birth, the skies to heel and rule afar---”

 

A loud bang sounded from the hallway. Lena glanced up at the set of large double doors that led into her late father’s office. Like everything else in the palace, the wood of the doors were hand carved with lavish, curling designs and frosted windows laced with golden filigree. A shadow moved beyond the glass. Lena slammed the book shut on the image of a man floating high above the world with a strange symbol branded across his chest and moved away from the desk. By the time the doors pushed open, Lena had retreated far from the book and sat expectantly on a small, plush bench. So long as Lena pretended the book wasn’t there, it would remain forgotten until she had the chance to stop by the office alone again. 

The Queen Regent stared in at Lena from the threshold. The gown she wore was extravagant; it was large, and hung wide and full from her hips. The embroidery was saturated in dark, muted reds and swirls of shimmering golds. A crimson corset cinched at her waist with similar intricate gold stitchings. A white, ruffled collar was stiff and erect around the back of her head and shoulders and decorated with lace. Lena had always thought that particular accessory was more ridiculous than fashionable, but somehow it managed to look regal on Lillian in a way that such attire would likely have appeared laughable on Lena. Still, it was the closest to family they’d ever appeared; with Lena’s rich red dress with flowing sleeves and the golden circlet crowned over her brow, the only true difference between them was Lena’s hair draped down her back in shining waves as black as jet, while Lillian’s ash-blonde hair was coiled up in a braided bun and accented in a net of pearls. Otherwise, from the stony, unkind expressions they both adopted, they almost could have been mistaken for blood relatives. 

Two men flanked her sides, neither of them particularly memorable or interesting to look at. Not that she would really consider Lillian all that pleasant to look at, either, with the perpetual scowl that formed hard, unfriendly lines across her face. It was an expression Lena had become accustomed to at a young age. Years ago, it would have driven a spike through her small, sensitive heart to be regarded with such thinly veiled contempt and displeasure. But now-- Lena felt a sharp smile form across her own mouth, a mirror to her step-mother’s. Now, Lena had taken that pain and erected a wall of steel around herself where Lillian couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t break her. 

Not anymore. 

“You’re late,” the Queen Regent remarked. Her voice held no more warmth for Lena than the narrowed look she regarded the Crown Princess with, and Lena let the accusation roll over her like frigid wind. 

“So I am,” Lena answered, equally as cold. 

Sometimes it was shocking to Lena just how similar she’d become to her adoptive mother, after years of telling herself she would never be anything like her. The Queen was a bitter, spiteful woman. The grudges she bore never faded, though Lena found Lillian was excellent at concealing them when the time called for it. Never for Lena, though. She would always come to expect the daily reminders that she was not Lillian’s blood and therefore would never be good enough. Lena had taken that lesson to heart and told herself she would always look on others with love, if only just to spite Lillian-- but sometimes, moments like these, where she was confronted by Lillian in a small, lifeless library, Lena felt that ugly face of hatred rear its head inside of herself. Hatred accompanied by longing and loss. 

Lillian’s lip twitched with a restrained snarl. Normally, Lena expected some kind of reprimand for anything other than steadfast obedience. After all, if there was something Lillian loathed more than Lena, it was insubordination. Lillian enjoyed the pleasures and responsibilities of a Queen, those of which she’d had when Lionel was alive, and now the power of the ruling monarch as regent in addition. And as far as the court was concerned, Lillian  _ was  _ Queen until it came time for the crown to transfer to Lena after her twenty-fourth birthday in three week’s time. Though she’d keep her title as Queen Mother afterward, Lena could only imagine how difficult it was going for be for Lillian to relinquish any control to her step-daughter. It was already difficult enough for the woman to behave herself-- the flash of disgust she shot at Lena was sufficient evidence that there was still a fine line to be treaded so long as she sat on the throne. Lena constantly toyed with the idea of banishing Lillian the moment the crown was laid atop her own head, but the fantasy would have to remain as it was for the moment. At least until Lillian did something entirely idiotic, like follow in Lex’s footsteps.

Studying Lillian now, Lena wondered how long it would be until that happened. 

Her step-mother appeared to be struggling with containing herself. “Our  _ guest  _ is arriving,” Lillian settled on, after a brief, tense pause. The disgust lurking in the edges of her voice was hard to miss.

Lena dipped her head. The single guard stationed inside the study stepped forward as Lena rose gracefully to her feet again. It was no secret that Lena spent much of her time within the study, pouring over her father’s miniature library whenever the smallest of chances allowed her. Her gaze flickered over to the tome on the desk where it lay abandoned. It was also no secret that Lena did not harbor the same resentment towards “others” that the royal family was well-known for their intolerance of. Whereas they feared the unknown, Lena was only curious of it-- maybe not bold enough to embrace it outright, but she kept most of her reservations at bay. She enjoyed investigation and learning and uncovering secrets, not running from them. Those reasons alone would have been enough to get Lillian to hate her, but combined with everything else-- well, it was difficult to say why Lillian even tried to keep up a pretense anymore, and even then there was only enough effort to disguise her dislike of Lena to the general public.  

The two men beside Lillian turned and followed her from the study as she whipped around, stiff and sharp in her exit. Lena followed in step, her own guard close behind. The corridor was large and grand; their footsteps clicked over polished marble and echoed against the smooth walls and vaulted ceilings. Paintings of various royalty lined the walls, and upon passing a few, Lena’s gaze skimmed over their subjects’ stoic, unblinking faces. As they reached the end of the hall, she found herself staring at a family portrait. Her family portrait-- or, would have been, if she had been in it. There was Lex, knelt at the knees of a younger Lillian, and Lionel towering over the two of them, one of his large hands settled on his wife’s shoulder and the other resting on the back of Lex’s neck. Her brother was barely a teenager in this image, about fourteen. She remembered that day. Lillian’s shrill screeches of rage had reverberated through this very hallway and into Lena’s small bones, crying foul over the little girl’s inclusion. It had shaken her to the core then. Now, it was a memory virtually indistinguishable from all the others. 

In the end, Lena was not allowed in the family portrait. She could almost understand Lillian’s refusal now; how would it look, a tiny, raven-haired girl with bright eyes the color of sea glass sitting amongst a sharp-edged, blonde and brown-eyed father and brother, and a mother who barely looked any similar? Lillian’s eyes were hard, ruthless chips of china-blue. Someone might have been able to convince themselves those eyes had borne the exquisite shade of Lena’s own, but they would have to look close and reach far, for Lillian’s eyes held no resemblance of love or devotion for the youngest Luthor the way a mother’s were supposed to.The way they did for Lex, her flesh and blood. Not that Lena’s status as the Luthor bastard wasn’t well-known or spoken often of. It was, in fact, still a topic of popular discussion, but now it had less to do with King Lionel’s flagrant adultery and more to do with the fact that Lena was about to inherit the crown despite it. 

“Your Highness?” 

Lena turned her head slightly to glance at her guard from the corner of her eye. The guard was watching her with dark eyes, and though she looked as impassive as any other royal guard, Lena could still see the soft, imploring look behind her gaze. 

“Apologies, Maggie,” she said, touching the woman’s arm briefly. “Just getting lost in thought.”

Maggie nodded her head. “The Queen Regent will be cross if you take much longer,” she pointed out, though the slight upturn to her mouth suggested she wasn’t any more impressed with Lillian’s constant intimidation than Lena was. 

A small smile curved over Lena’s mouth as she stared back at the painting. It was funny to her, in a way, that her face was painfully absent from the portrait. Lillian had nearly frothed at the very idea of having the little bastard sit at her heels beside her precious prince. As if Lena had any sort of claim to royalty, when the woman who’d delivered her into the world was no more than a maid caught up in the King’s wandering lust and desires. A servant, a wretch, no more worth casting value upon than the stray dogs scuttling around for scraps in the streets of Metropolis’s capital, National City. 

And in three weeks time, this dog would be wearing the high crown-- with a portrait of it hanging beside this one for all to see.

“Let her be cross,” Lena said, holding back the laugh that threatened to bubble up out of her. “She can’t do a damn thing about it now.”  

The throne room was crawling with activity. Knights lined the walls of the room like silent, gleaming sentries. The personal guards kept close to the base of the steps that held the platform of the throne, separating the royal family from the elaborately costumed nobles who murmured excitedly amongst themselves on either side of the carpet that cut directly through the the room. Further down, closer to the massive doors at the far end, a crowd of common folk chattered and clambered around each other, barely able to contain themselves behind the knights planted between them and the carpet. A huge window in the shape of a sun ushered in a beam of sunlight into the room over the doors, some of the light tinted rainbow by the smaller stained glass windows on either side. 

The noise surprised Lena enough that she paused at her entrance door to stare in at the commotion. It was a swelling hum that buzzed in her ears, each voice unintelligible from another, and every word so muddled together that there was no way to tell which language any one person was speaking. She faintly remembered the last time she’d been present for such an exciting event; her father was not a particularly friendly King to their neighboring countries, and rarely took in ambassadors from the other kingdoms with grand gestures and welcoming banquets, especially as the years dragged on. Lex was no different, and in the negligent amount of time he’d been prepped for taking the throne, he’d allowed exactly no one outside their own citizens to grace this hall--if anyone at all. The Luthors were not known for their hospitality, that much was certain. 

It was difficult to say whether the excitement quivering throughout the throne room was simply for the ceremony itself, or if the good people of Metropolis were as curious as Lena about the guest about to enter. It certainly was not for the royal family’s presence. She ascended the steps to the platform behind her mother, and besides the customary bows of heads from the nobles, barely anyone paid her much mind. Lena’s relationship with the people wasn’t necessarily bad-- her association with the royal family lent a bitter flavor all on its own, but she in particular hadn’t done anything to earn the scorn of the people quite yet. She straddled a fine line with her citizens, and she hoped that providing them with old tradition would help nudge her back into their favor. 

There were too many fine lines to walk in this life, Lena decided. 

Lillian mounted the tiered platform and took her seat on the large, ornate throne gilded in gold and jewels. A canopy of dark blue velvet draped over the backside of the dias and above where Lillian sat, the edges of it drawn back by golden rope. The throne itself was a beautiful piece, and sat alone on the dias; there was none for the consort of the sovereign. It was one more reminder that until Lena’s birthday, and consequently her coronation, Lillian held her place as regent of the crown.  _ Queen _ . Lena watched her mother as Lillian settled into the seat. As a dowager queen, Lillian was not supposed to hold much power over the country’s affairs and its people, and never would have sat in that throne because of it. But when King Lionel had decreed Lena’s legitimacy, that had granted Lillian the ability to claim Lena as her daughter, and it had become the perfect opportunity for Lillian to claim regency in Lena’s stead when the kingdom was suddenly left without a ruler. 

It bothered Lena how at home her mother appeared on that throne. As much as Lena had never wanted the throne, nor ever believed she’d one day see herself upon it, it was worse to see Lillian perched on its seat and the sparkling, gem-encrusted diadem of the monarchy placed over her brow. Lena was fairly certain it wasn’t custom for regents to wear the crown, but there was nothing she could do about it now. 

As soon as the crown had lowered onto Lillian’s head, a hush of wary silence drowned out the murmurs of conversation. A hundred or more faces turned to what was left of the royal family and stared, expectant. 

Lena stood silently beside the throne and grasped her hands in front of her silk dress. Her emotions were like a turbulent storm, raging against the calm facade she’d perfected since her youth. It’d taken her weeks-- maybe a month or more, she couldn’t recall-- to convince Lillian to even allow the official audience. Badgering and bartering wasn’t something Lena ever thought she’d find herself doing, especially for the sake of a foreign royal, but it’d taken that and more to finally,  _ finally _ , break down Lillian’s resolve until the queen mother had no choice but to oblige. It helped Lena’s case somewhat that she would soon be sweeping the throne out from under Lillian, but it wasn’t soon enough. 

She exhaled softly through her nose. It’d been a miracle this audience had even 

occurred before her coronation. And now that it was here, jolts of nervous energy sprang under her skin and through her entire being. So much could go so wrong at any moment.

Lena could barely listen when Lillian began to speak. As the Queen addressed the gathered guests, Lena kept her gaze fixated on the doors opposite the room to the throne. A pair of knights waited there, statuesque, clad in steel armor so polished it gleamed like glass. Her heart quickened when they suddenly turned and clasped the iron bars. Everyone else shuffled in unison to watch as the knights dragged open the doors, allowing a bright beam of sunlight to illuminate the carpet. Only the Earl Marshal stood on the carpet, his own robes of cream and navy a stark contrast to the earthy, dust-tinged cloths of the common folk behind him. Though she was too far to make out a distinct expression, she knew him well enough to note the posture of unease as a second scroll was slipped into his hand. Of course, he knew this would happen. He’d been an integral part of the entire plan. She had to omit some details in order for it to work, but Lena had faith in him to get the job done. 

Some of her nerves abated. There was no turning back now. 

The trailing remnants of fanfare echoed in from the outside. There was another crowd gathered beyond the doors, held separate by more knights. The Earl Marshal cleared his throat and held the scroll aloft. Behind him, the first few heralds crested the top of the steps and entered as the first in the procession. They held banners of various colors, and as more of them filed in, the more Lena recognized the crest emblazoned over every flag. A pair of knights in dark metal suits advanced behind the heralds. The helmets were very unlike the ones her own knights wore, with sharp angles and grated visors drawn down over their faces. Deep red plumes streamed back from the mounted ridge of their helmets. 

Royal entry was something Lena had witnessed as a young child, back when the King was more receptive to welcoming royalty from other kingdoms. A wedding here, a new coronation there, and occasionally this hall opened in a similar fashion to receive and honor such guests. It didn’t last long, she remembered. Lena had been barely a teenager the last time this hall had seen such a ceremony.

A young, handsome man entered on horseback. Knights in the same dark slate plates surrounded him, their weapons of shining steel held high. He wore a red military uniform fitted perfectly to his figure, with a dark blue cape draped from his shoulders and held to his tunic by two round, golden clasps. A thick black belt secured around his waist with an impressively large golden buckle. His dark hair was swept neatly to the side, and his cleanly shaven face was smiling politely at the women closest to the procession. Even from the dias, Lena could hear a few shrill giggles arising from the noblewomen he passed by. 

“His Royal Highness, the Grand Prince Mon-el of Daxam,” the Earl Marshal bellowed. 

The swords in the air swooped in unison into the sheaths on the knights’ hips, where they all slid into place with a resounding hush of metal. 

The Prince drew his beautiful bay mare to a stop several yards from the dias. The mare huffed loudly against her bit and bobbed her head, and then settled to a still as soon as her rider stroked the side of her sweat-slicked neck. He lifted a gloved hand and pressed it into a fist against his heart before bowing forward to Lillian and Lena at the throne. 

As customary, Lillian tilted her head toward him, and Lena dipped herself into an elegant curtsey in response. 

The Queen Regent moved to speak, but then fanfare outside erupted again and the crowd’s attention shifted once more to the steps of the hall. Prince Mon-El nudged his horse side-step as a new wave of knights advanced in from the open doors. 

Lena shared a long glance with the Prince before he, too, turned to watch the next guest. 

These knights were also from Daxam, but Lena noticed immediately that their helmets did not sport the same plumage-- none at all, in fact. And instead of an entire entourage, only two armored knights proceeded the rider that entered the hall. Their weapons were also not drawn, though they kept a hand on the hilt of their swords at their hips. 

Lena wasn’t sure what to look at first. The horse itself was stunning, a graying stallion with dark legs and dapples that mottled his breast, sides, and hindquarters. What surprised Lena was to see him in partial barding. Plates of silver armor, intricately decorated, lined the back of the horse’s neck and matched the polished mask fitted over his face. A small spike glinted from the center of the chanfron, longer than Lena had ever seen on an armored horse before. A dark leather harness fastened across the horse’s entire body with spade-shaped tags hung from every loop. A long piece of white fabric dropped down the horse’s sides from beneath the saddle, and on the fabric Lena could see another crest, vastly different to Daxam’s and embroidered in gold. 

But it was not the beautiful war horse that stole the breath from the room. 

Lena lifted her gaze to meet the rider’s. A woman, not much older than Lena herself, sat in the saddle of the war horse like she’d been born there. The suit of armor she wore was unlike anything else Lena had ever seen. The metal was white, or nearly so, and glimmered with soft iridescence like the surface of a pearl. Lena was enchanted by the way the sunshine danced and sparkled across the metal. The suit fitted perfectly to the woman’s body, and had it not been for a matching set of silver spaulders over the woman’s shoulders and the criss-cross of chainmail over her lower abdomen, might not have looked like armor at all. A golden cape flowed from under the spaulders, down the woman’s backside and over the flank of her stallion. It shimmered with her movement as if hammered from the very metal itself. She was not wearing a helmet; her blonde hair, nearly as gold as the cape she wore, fell in curling waves down the front of her breastplate. In the center of the plate was the symbol Lena had seen on the horse’s draped banner and in the pages of her father’s old tome. It was set into the metal in ruby, and the splash of crimson over the rider’s otherwise immaculate appearance was jarring. 

Lena found she had a hard time not staring, though it became apparent that was true for just about everyone else in the room. 

The Earl Marshal declared, “Her Royal Highness, the last Princess of Krypton--” he stopped abruptly, staring at his scroll. Then, after a pause, he lifted his gaze and cleared his throat. He did not continue. 

Lena did not look away from the piercing blue eyes of the rider as she halted her horse a pace away from Prince Mon-El. Only when the Prince and the new Princess turned to exchange polite acknowledgements did Lena side-glance her mother on the throne. As she expected, Lillian’s knuckles were bone white from her grip on the armrests of her seat. Lena could not read her face from this angle, though she had a fair idea of the expression the Queen wore. 

The Princess looked to the dias and, as the Prince of Daxam had, lifted a hand to press against her chest and bowed. Lena curtsied again, but this time her mother was immobile. 

Lillian’s lip twitched. “Does the Princess of Krypton have no name?” The words were sharp, unfriendly, and Lena felt herself tense at the unfettered contempt that Lillian spoke with. She’d expected some of it, at least, considering the Queen Regent had no prior knowledge that the Prince of Daxam was going to be accompanied by another, much less a Kryptonian. “Or was that buried with the rest of your kingdom?”

Lena could not read the look on the Princess’s face. She was stoic, untouchable. 

A murmur rippled through the room. 

“Your Majesty, if I may--” the Prince started, but Lillian lifted her hand to silence him.

“My name,” the Princess said, and her voice was nearly as captivating as her appearance. It was powerful, rich, and somehow gave Lena the impression that it was filled with light. Her tone, however, was firm, and held no more softness than Lillian’s had. It carried through the hall with the kind of innate, noble-born confidence that effortlessly commanded attention and held it without question. The voice of a queen, Lena thought, “belongs to me and my people.”

The murmur grew louder. Lena felt surprise like a physical force pulling unease through her center. Such behavior in a royal court was unprecedented, particularly in a welcoming ceremony. She’d never encountered a situation in which a visitor refused to give their name. Lena hadn’t considered hostility from the Kryptonian in her letters to the Prince-- as secretive as they were, she hadn’t pressed when he never offered the Princess’s name. They were both more than aware of how the Queen Regent might react, but she’d been under the impression that this Princess would be...well, better behaved. 

Perhaps this audience wasn’t the best of ideas. 

Lillian was stiff on the throne. “And which people are those?” she countered, teeth bared in an unpleasant smile. “You have no people. No kingdom. As far as anyone is concerned, you are  _ no one’s _ Princess.”

The woman’s eyes flashed. They were a brilliant shade of blue, deeper and more vibrant than Lillian’s. With the sunlight aglow at her back and glimmering over her armor, Lena did not have to wonder why the old legends had often considered the Kryptonians to be angels. 

“Perhaps,” was her answer, smooth and carefully pronounced. After a tense, thoughtful pause, she added, “If you must call me by name, I will take my father’s. Zor-El of Krypton.” 

Princess Zor-El. It was a foreign name that felt strange on Lena’s tongue, despite its similarity to the Prince’s. 

Lillian did not seem satisfied, but Lena doubted there was any particular outcome of this situation where she would be. “And to what do we owe this visit,  _ Zor-El _ of Krypton? Or is this the belated wedding announcement on your part, Prince Mon-El?” 

The Prince dipped his head respectfully toward Lillian, but said, “Apologies for the surprise, Your Majesty. The Princess of Krypton and I are not betrothed.” From the slight note of regret to his voice Lena noticed, she wondered exactly what kind of relationship transpired between the two as he continued, “She is but an honored guest in my kingdom.”

The Queen Regent tapped her fingers against the throne’s armrest. “I was under the impression that Daxam held no more love for the kingdom of Krypton than mine,” Lillian said, leveling Princess Zor-El with a long stare. “What does Queen Rhea say of this?”

There was hesitation to the Prince as he mulled over an answer. Before he could, however, the Princess beside him lifted her chin and said, “Queen Rhea is the reason I am before you now, your Majesty.” Lena did not miss the hardness to her tone. “The Prince was kind enough to see me to Metropolis, where the remainder of the Kryptonians have lived since the destruction of our home.” 

It was not unknown that the last surviving few-- and few they were-- of the Kryptonians lived in Metropolis, scattered through villages and towns until it was nearly impossible to track them down. Lena knew, because her brother had tried; after the Great Kal-El had emerged with all of the powers of a God at his disposal, it’d stricken her kingdom with fear and hatred. Or so her father and step-mother had insisted. Magic and witches, gods and angels-- anything remotely unable to be controlled by the the laws of their land or the swift swing of a blade was something to be shunned and punished. Such sentiments had followed the ruling family through the ages and culminated in Lex’s abhorrence for magic and men of myth, until the quest for a weapon to defeat Kal-El had driven Lex into literal insanity. Even if most Kryptonians--besides the starbloods-- were now as mortal as the rest of the world, her family would leave nothing to chance.

Lena had always wondered how much of the legends were true. So many texts had suggested that the ancient Kryptonians were once all of man’s ancestors, sculpted from the earth by a powerful sunbeast and blessed with powers beyond man’s wildest imagination. She recalled reading stories of their magical feats and adventures as a child. They were fairy tales and legends. Never would she have believed the starblooded actually existed until Kal-El had proven otherwise all those years ago. Unlike her family, Lena was less inclined to believe magic itself was inherently evil, considering the lengths Kal-El had gone to to help their country with his powers. She’d witnessed it herself firsthand, including the admiration of her citizens that followed. He’d been a knight, after all, before revealing himself-- she had a hard time believing anything would have changed for him afterwards. Or maybe it did; she was not one to make assumptions lightly. He left Metropolis, after all. 

“And what could you possibly want here?” Lillian asked, doing far too little to keep the exasperation from her voice. It wasn’t the controlled tone of a queen, and Lena had a feeling that Lillian was well aware of this-- and didn’t care. The contention between Krypton and Metropolis had roots deep in Lillian’s already darkened heart. It’d taken her firstborn son and his chance at rulership. She wouldn’t give a damn about pleasantries and etiquette. 

In lieu of answering, the Princess’s gaze fell to Lena. Something quickened under her skin, and it took Lena a moment longer than necessary to realize her heartbeat was unsteady in her chest at Princess Zor-el’s attention. Her mouth ran dry. As much as she had told herself to anticipate this moment, there was honestly not much she could do to prepare for the nervousness now fluttering wildly in the pit of her stomach. She’d addressed crowds before. She’d stood on a platform before the judgement of her citizens. She’d taken Lillian’s beratement, both publicly and in private. 

She’d never done all three in order to justify inviting her family’s enemy to seek refuge in their home, though. 

Lena stepped forward on the dias, beyond the throne where she could feel Lillian’s stare needling holes into the back of her skull. Spreading out her hands, palms up and welcoming, Lena smiled down at the Prince and Princess who watched her. “The Princess of Krypton is here at my summons,” Lena heard herself say, cool and calm as if the tension mounting between her mother and the Kryptonian wasn’t coiling like a python around the room, “and I thank her for taking the long, perilous journey to get here at my request. I also extend my deepest gratitude to Prince Mon-El for ensuring her safe passage.” The murmurs this time were faint, and Lena attributed that mostly to the frozen shock that seized the surrounding crowd. She could almost feel Lillian attempting murder by look alone from behind, where her mother was suspiciously silent. 

Prince Mon-El tilted his head forward again. “It was my honor to, Princess Lena,” he said, flashing her a dazzling smile. Any other time that smile might have inspired annoyance in her, considering the Prince’s reputation for flirtation at any opportunity. She’d encountered it first-hand when they were younger, but he’d been quick to learn that his charm did not affect her the way it did almost every other woman he came across. 

“Princess Zor-El,” Lena said, turning from Mon-El to face the other woman squarely. When Lena met her gaze again, she was struck by the brightness of her eyes and the sheer power she exuded. Lena had seen beautiful knights before, but never one this intensely striking, and never a Princess-knight. Lena already had so many questions, she wasn’t sure where she was going to start as soon as they had the chance to speak alone. “I know this wasn’t the warmest of welcomes to our country, but I sincerely hope that you are able to enjoy yourself here. We have much to discuss in the meantime.” 

“Indeed we do,” Lillian cut in, and this time Lena shifted a step to look at her mother over her shoulder. The Queen’s face was dark, but now unreadable; Lena hoped that meant Lillian was resigning herself to whatever the Crown Princess had planned. With the rest of the kingdom watching, there wasn’t much else Lillian could really do without losing what little respect she might still have.  

So far, the audience hadn’t devolved into a fight or pledge for war. Lena tried not to hold her breath in prayer that the rest of it went smoothly. 

“Master Schott will take your horses,” Lena said, gesturing with a sweep of a hand at a young man nearby, “and see that they are well taken care of. I must insist that the both of you join Queen Lillian and myself in my private study. Afterward, I promise a banquet that is more becoming of our hospitality than this.” Her smile widened slightly, and Princess Zor-el managed to return it by the small uptick of the corner of her mouth. 

There. The conclusion was drawn; the dismissal was evident enough that knights standing silent in the hall turned, both Daxam and Metropolis alike, to leave for the barracks. The noblefolk remained where they were, the buzz of their chatter mounting with every passing moment. The commonfolk, however, shuffled quickly out the main doors, herded like sheep by the guardsmen and women that urged their departure. 

The young man, Master Schott, came close to the Prince and Princess still mounted on their steeds. His eyes were wide as he marveled at the Princess’s stallion and the decorated criniere of plated silver down the back of the horse’s neck. When he gripped the reins just under the stallion’s chin, the Princess leaned forward, swung her leg easily over the saddle, and slid down onto her boots beside her horse. Lena watched as the Princess touched a gauntlet to the stallion’s dappled flank before smiling over at the stablehand. 

“Be good to him,” Lena heard her say, though her voice was kind, “He is very precious to me.” 

The young man nodded. “Of-of course, your Highness,” he responded immediately, his gaze straying to the armored helmet fastened over the stallion’s face. The metal spike between the horse’s brow glinted dangerously in the sunlight, but Master Schott didn’t appear fazed by it. He did, however, look awfully unnerved by the armored woman standing before him. “Does he have a name?”

Princess Zor-El smiled fully this time. She stroked the stallion’s fur and said, “He’s called Cometfire. Or just Comet.” 

“Comet,” he repeated, awed. Comet turned his head and huffed a breath against the young man’s shoulder.

A loud snort drew their attention, and both Princess Zor-El and Master Schott turned to see Prince Mon-el’s mare bobbing her head again and exhaling forcefully through flared nostrils. 

“She’s the jealous sort,” the Prince said, laughing. 

Master Schott smiled and reached over to pat the mare’s dark nose. She lipped at his fingers, but then acquiesced to the touch and nudged his palm when he made motion to stop. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

The Prince followed the same movements as Princess Zor-El in dismounting his horse, though Lena thought he looked less graceful than his companion. “I call her Banshee,” he declared, and the mare tossed her head with vigor this time, drawing a laugh from the stablehand.

“Banshee?” 

“She’s deeply opinionated and rather vocal about it,” Prince Mon-el answered, rubbing his horse’s face with affection. “She practically named herself.”

A brief touch at Lena’s elbow jerked her from the reverie of watching the Prince and Princess. Maggie stood beside her quietly, beckoning Lena with the slight rise of an eyebrow. 

“The Queen requests word with you before meeting with our honored guests,” Maggie said, low enough that Lena had to tilt forward to hear her. “I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed until you are ready to receive the Prince and Princess.” 

“Many thanks, Maggie,” Lena said, returning the touch by placing a hand over the top of her guard’s. She glanced once more at their guests before following Maggie down the steps of the dias and through the door she’d first entered through. “Though to be honest, I’d rather not go in there alone.” She chuckled softly under her breath, and Maggie gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. 

“Should I post someone else outside?” 

Lena considered it as they walked together. Queen Lillian had already disappeared down the corridor, likely seeking as much space from the Kryptonian Princess as quickly as possible. She knew from the minute she’d devised this plan with Prince Mon-El that her mother would behave in such ways, but no amount of planning was ever going to prepare her for the fury that Lillian would bring upon her as soon as the chance allowed. 

“No, I will survive on my own,” Lena said, though she sighed as she spoke. “If I cannot confront her by myself, I have no business becoming Queen.” 

Maggie snorted. “You and I have vastly different ideas of what it takes to become Queen, then.” 

Lena smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. Maggie had not always been her personal guard. Before Lena was ever considered an official heir of the royal family, there’d been a handful of different men that she could hardly remember, nor want to, that were tasked with following the little bastard in case of an attack. Not that they were particularly encouraged to do much in the face of violence, though Lena was lucky to never have been the target of it. There weren’t many people in the palace worth placing absolute trust in, but Margarita Sawyer was one of them. Lena gripped Maggie’s knuckles on her arm briefly, and then detached herself from her guard and looked at the door they’d both stopped in front of. 

“Good luck,” Maggie whispered. 

Lena inhaled deeply and forced herself to withdraw. It was a necessary skill for her-- not just as royalty, but as a child, it was the only way she learned to survive mentally and emotionally with a mother that constantly rejected her at every turn. She had to learn how to live with a woman that scorned her under her breath, who looked upon her with nigh a trace of adoration or affection through the twenty years Lena had been under her care. If Lena shoved every last emotion into an iron box and locked it deep within herself, there was no way that Lillian’s disdain would worm its way into her heart like it used to. 

Still, it never stopped Lena from wondering--hoping-- that today might be different. Maybe once Lillian knew and understood what Lena was planning, she’d finally look at Lena with something resembling love. 

The door pushed open with a soft groan of the wood. Unlike her father’s study, which was larger than this room by at least three times the width and lined with bookshelves brimming with books, this room was meant for private meetings and secret councils. It was round, with thick drapes over the windows to dim the light that filtered into the room between the fabric that was augmented only slightly by the candles hanging from a small chandelier in the middle of the room. A large table in the center had a map tacked to its surface, small figurines sitting over various towns and cities in red while other figures, black and carved from some kind of stone, grouped together over mountains and forests. There were several chairs around the table, though none of them were occupied. 

Queen Lillian stood beside the table. The shadows in the room were thrown over her face, exaggerating the dark stare she regarded Lena with. She no longer wore the monarch’s crown.

Lena’s first instinct was to shrink away. It was a response she would never be truly rid of, no matter how much control of her outward appearance she had. But she held herself together, kept herself calm, and returned the gaze with a level, unblinking one of her own. Lillian was a master of intimidation and coldness, but Lena had learned from the best. 

As soon as the door creaked shut behind her, Lillian placed a hand on the table. Behind her, Lena could see a small, carved wooden box. 

“I will admit,” Lillian started, her voice sharp as it echoed against the walls of the room, “that I am...impressed. This is the first time anyone has managed to keep a secret from me, especially one of considerable importance, and  _ especially  _ by you.” 

Despite the sneer to her words, Lena felt a pang deep in the recesses of her heart. She’d never impressed her step-mother before. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lena found herself saying, just as biting. The pang in her heart twisted in her chest, snarled until it throbbed in a bitter ache of grief. “I’d say this was the second time I’ve been the source of remarkable secrecy from you.” 

Lillian’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, low and dark with warning. “I knew about you the moment you were conceived. You think your father was capable of lying to me? You think I didn’t know the type of girls he kept as company when I refused to share his bed?” Her teeth were bared as she took a step closer. The room was so dark, it made Lillian’s eyes nearly black in the shadow. “You were no secret, Lena. Who do you think kept word of you out of the minds and whispers of this entire kingdom for four years?”

Lena stared. Her jaw clenched together to keep the well of emotion from springing up as a hard lump in her throat. 

Lillian’s anger faded somewhat. She stopped in front of Lena and watched her step-daughter closely. “I was there when you were born,” the queen said, so soft it was almost a whisper. Slowly, she lifted a pale hand and cupped the edge of Lena’s jaw in her palm. “Such a beautiful baby you were.” Her thumb stroked Lena’s cheek. “A head full of dark hair, just like your mother.” 

Before Lena could stop them, fresh tears lined her eyes. She blinked rapidly to rid them, but Lillian saw. She tutted and gripped Lena tighter. “You were always my secret, not Lionel’s. I protected you from the day you were created,” Lillian said, gazing hard into Lena’s eyes and holding her fast to prevent her from breaking away. “Your father might have brought you to this castle and named you his second heir, but if it wasn’t for me, you would have been eaten alive the minute you came screaming into this world.” 

Lena jerked her face out of Lillian’s hand, and the queen let her go without a fight. 

“You act like you cared at all what happened to me,” Lena said, her voice more haggard than she expected. Breathless and tinged with the tears she fought to control. “Protect? You’ve done everything  _ but  _ for the past twenty years.”

Lillian’s mouth pursed together in a line. “I know I am not the mother you had, or the one you wanted,” she said, surprisingly gentle. It threw Lena off, and she stared at Lillian for another long moment, unable to comprehend just exactly what was happening. Lillian looked down at her hands, uncharacteristically remorseful. “God knows I was never the mother to you that I was to Lex.”

The sound of his name was a stone weighing deep in her stomach. Lena took a steadying breath. This was the first time Lillian had ever admitted any fault in the way she’d treated Lena since the day she’d come to live with the royal family. The first time she’d ever considered herself Lena’s mother. The first time she uttered Lex’s name to Lena that wasn’t additionally trying to place the blame for his incarceration on the youngest Luthor.  

“I may not be a wonderful mother,” Lillian continued, “but I never stopped trying to protect you.” 

Lena’s heart fluttered. It wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to hear over all these years, but it was damn close. It sent a deep ache through her chest. She studied Lillian carefully, trying to find any trace of subterfuge lurking in the near-violet irises of her step-mother’s eyes. 

The Queen held out a hand. Several heartbeats passed before Lena hesitantly lifted hers and placed it into Lillian’s, who instantly took it and tugged Lena back toward the table. “You look so much like her, you know,” Lillian said, so nonchalant that it took Lena a moment to realize who she was talking about. “It wasn’t easy for me, watching you grow up. Seeing her face constantly and knowing exactly why. The King and I may have had trouble getting along from time to time, but seeing the product of my husband’s infidelity every day is a pain I hope you never know.” 

Lena gathered she was supposed to feel some measure of sympathy for Lillian about this, but instead all she felt was cold indifference seeping through her being. She looked down at the box that Lillian turned toward as they stopped in front of the table and tried not to think about Lillian hovering in the background during her birth mother’s labor. Waiting for the King’s bastard to take her first breaths and saddle the burden of Lillian’s anger and shame for twenty-four years. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you,” Lena said, quiet and simple. From the way that Lillian paused to send her a look of narrowed distaste from the corner of her eye, Lena knew the disparaging lilt to her words hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Lillian unlocked the box with quick, practiced fingers. It was a puzzlebox of some kind, and though Lena followed the motions easily, she wasn’t sure she could remember the complex pattern enough to unlock it on her own. The top unfolded back as soon as Lillian touched the last of its hidden mechanisms, and inside the velvet-lined compartment lay a beautiful medallion on a silver chain. The medallion itself looked to to be silver-faced and designed with elegant knots, as if the thing had been braided together with infinite crosses and loops. In the center of the piece, Lena saw a cut gemstone embedded into the precious metal. Lillian carefully scooped the medallion out of the box and turned to face Lena fully. 

The dim light of the room fell across the face of the medallion and caught on the crystal. It gleamed a beautiful orange; like citrine, Lena thought, only somehow the color was stronger, brighter, like a tiny chunk of the sky had been carved out at sunset and placed into a stone. The crystal itself was not any larger than her pinky nail, yet it drew her eye like no ruby or diamond had ever before. 

“I might not have been able to show my love the way a mother should,” Lillian said, following Lena’s gaze down to the piece in her hand. It fit perfectly in her palm. “But Lex-- your brother loved you very much.” She took up Lena’s hand again and pressed the medallion into it. “He wanted to protect you more than anything else in the world. That’s why he…” As her voice trailed off abruptly, unable to finish, Lena felt herself flinch. Lillian had always blamed Lena for Lex’s turn to madness and his imprisonment in the old watchtower. She assumed it was born of Lillian’s need to place the blame of her sorrows on someone else other than her son’s own misguided hatred of magic. Not that Lena would ever expect Lillian to think of it as misguided. 

Lena looked at the medallion in her hand. The metal was warm, like someone had been wearing it for hours and not locked away in a box for years, assuming the dust that had coated the lid was any indication. She turned it over, admiring the intricate detail of the design. 

“He wanted you to have this,” Lillian said, lifting up the chain that was dangling over the side of Lena’s hand. Lena stayed still as her step-mother lowered it over her head and let the medallion hang at her chest. It was heavy, but comfortably so. “He said it would keep you safe.” 

“Safe?” Lena echoed, touching the medallion. “Safe from what?”

Lillian’s hands fell to Lena’s shoulders. She held Lena firmly again until it was almost painful. “From danger,” was the only answer she gave. 

Lena frowned. The necklace didn’t appear to have any mystical qualities-- it looked like a regular medallion to her, and it likewise would have made no sense for her brother to have given her a magical artifact, much less for Lillian to bestow it upon her. However, before she had the chance to clarify, Lillian moved away and around the edge of the table, turning her attention to the map in the very center. 

“Now, Lena,” she said, looking back up at the Crown Princess. “Just what were you thinking? A Kryptonian, in this palace? After everything Lex sacrificed?”

There it was. The accusation was present in her tone, just as Lena expected, though softer than it usually was. Lena suspected Lillian was struggling very much to keep herself from exploding in anger. It felt strange after receiving the medallion from her brother; like she should feel guilty for even allowing Princess Zor-El to cross the border of their kingdom. 

“I didn’t do it out of the goodness of my heart,” Lena said, doing her best to sound annoyed at the implication. She placed a hand at the edge of the map and stared down at the figurines scattered haphazardly over the cities and wilderness. One of the black stone figures was close, so she picked it up and inspected it closely. “These...shadowbeasts. What exactly did you propose to the court last week? Erect a wall and send our best with prayers for their victory?” Lena scoffed and forcibly placed the figure back on the table, where it clanked loudly against the wood. “You and I both know that the Knights of Deo aren’t equipped to handle them, and they were  _ trained  _ for such a purpose. They barely won the battle against a pair-- what do you expect will happen if our knights encounter an entire horde? What do you propose for all of the other towns and cities outside of these walls?” 

Lillian’s gaze narrowed. “The Knights of Deo will be equipped with weaponry even these beasts cannot best. That is no reason to bring a Kryptonian into our midst.” 

“We’ve lost too many of our knights as it is,” Lena responded tersely. Whatever softness had been brewing between them moments before vanished, leaving them tense and uncomfortable in the small space they shared. “I will not let any more good men and women sacrifice their lives to only postpone our deaths. These shadowbeasts are unlike anything we’ve faced before, and your special weapons won’t be enough to stop them.” No weapon was. These creatures of darkness that had sprung out of the pits of the earth and the depths of the night had terrorized half of their kingdom already. And that had only been the first wave; how many more there were to come was uncertain, but it was far more than they could handle without some kind of magic on their side. Lena could admit that much. Perhaps her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, but Lena would see to it that these beasts did not claim the lives of any more of her people.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I have the authority over this matter for the next three weeks,” Lillian hissed back, curling a fist on the table. “I will not have that-- that  _ creature  _ in my house, in my city! After what her kind have done to my son--your  _ brother--  _ and to our country--”

“She’s going to help me save Lex,” Lena interrupted, and Lillian fell silent. It had come out of nowhere; Lena had never actually spoken to the Princess before, nor had she mentioned such plans to Prince Mon-El in their letters. But Lillian didn’t know that. Looking back down at the shadowbeast figure, she added quietly, “She’s the last of her kind--the starbloods. She knows where to find Kal-El’s secret castle and the key to reversing the effects of Lex’s mind poisoning.” 

“And just why would she do that?” 

Lena’s thoughts spun. “Like you said, she’s a princess without a people. She’s a brilliant warrior, according to Prince Mon-El. In exchange for protecting Metropolis from the shadowbeasts, and restoring the rightful King to the throne, she can gather the last of the Kryptonians and leave in peace with our aid to found New Krypton. It’s what she wants most,” she said, careful only to meet Lillian’s gaze when the partial lie felt valid enough to believe. Her step-mother’s expression was still suspicious, but less so now-- it wrestled with indecision, and Lena prayed that Lillian’s obsession with Lex’s return would be enough to convince her of the plan. 

Lillian rapped her fingertips against the table in thought. “You would give up your rule?” she asked, incredulous. 

“Yes,” Lena answered immediately. It was true-- she would. But not to Lillian, and certainly not to Lex. Not after what he did. “I never wanted it.” 

Lillian must have seen the sincerity shining through Lena, because a moment later she nodded her head. “Very well. If this...Princess Zor-El can return my son to me, to this kingdom, and keep those beasts from destroying it, I will...consider this offer of yours.” 

Relief flooded through her. “Thank you,” Lena said, bowing toward Lillian. “Without your support, I fear everything would fall apart. We are vulnerable enough with those monsters attacking the villages on the outskirts and causing mayhem. This kingdom needs unity if we are going to succeed.” Unity and a queen who cared for every person, not just the nobility-- but Lena kept that part to herself. She fixed her mother with a long stare. She could, theoretically, do this without Lillian. She could have waited the three weeks to receive the Princess of Krypton on better terms and with a Queen more willing to work alongside her. 

But, knowing Lillian as well as she did, if Lena didn’t have her mother on her side during the entire operation, it would only end badly for everyone involved. And there was nothing Lillian loved more than feeling in control. 

Besides, her kingdom might not have three weeks to spare before the worst of the shadowbeasts came to claim their lives. 

The Queen swept a hand toward the door. “I believe it’s time to speak to our guests, then,” she said, and though she sounded civil enough, Lena could tell it would take a degree of effort to keep herself polite. 

Lena nodded and approached the door. After a quick rap of her knuckles against the wood, she heard the slide of the heavy metal lock as Maggie undid it. 

“The Princess of Krypton and the Grand Prince of Daxam,” her guard said as the door swung open. Lena backed away a few steps as the light from the corridor cut in through the private study. Prince Mon-El stood patiently, arms at his sides. Lena noticed the usual dark sheath of his sword was absent from his hip. Next to him, Princess Zor-El nearly matched him in height and surpassed him, in Lena’s opinion, in poise and regality. The pearlescent sheen of her armor still attracted Lena’s gaze, but instead she found herself meeting the Princess’s sky-colored eyes as the woman was led inside the study. Now that she was close and Lena could see the details of the Princess’s face in more clarity, she wasn’t surprised to discover that the Kryptonian was breathtakingly gorgeous. It seemed to be a common trait among them. 

“Welcome,” Lena said, as Lillian moved to stand beside her. From the door, a few of the guards filed in behind their guests and took up their stations along the edge of the room. Lena didn’t recognize a few of them, but from the Daxam crest threaded through their tunics, it was apparent that the Prince had brought enough guards for both himself and the Princess Zor-El. 

Prince Mon-El took Lena’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to the top of it before repeating the gesture to Lillian. “It is a pleasure to see you both again,” he said, smiling. 

Lena returned the smile, though it wasn’t quite as authentic. “And you as well, Prince Mon-El,” she said. 

Lillian’s gaze did not move from Princess Zor-El. When Lena turned to greet the Princess, she found that both of them were staring at each other grim-faced and resolute. Animosity crackled like lightning between the Queen Regent and the Princess of Krypton, and it took much of Lena’s self-control not to jump in the middle to keep them separate like warring children. 

“Queen Lillian has given her blessing for our agreement,” Lena said, and the volume of her words was strong enough to draw both of their gazes to her instead. Perhaps she’d said it a little too forcefully, but as long as they no longer looked as though they were about to jump at each other’s throats, Lena didn’t particularly care. 

The Princess was impassive for a moment. Then, touching her glove to her breastplate like she’d done on horseback, she bowed forward to Lena and then swept herself in a deep bow to Lillian. “I appreciate your support,” Princess Zor-El said, and Lena was surprised to hear that the power to her voice was still as prevalent as it had been before a crowd of people. 

Lillian shifted in place and clasped her hands together in front of her gown. “I will give it, so long as the conditions are met,” she remarked stiffly, looking pointedly at her daughter. 

Lena held her chin high. “Of course,” she said. Her gaze moved back to meet Princess Zor-El’s. Such blue eyes seemed as impossible as magic; briefly, she wondered if those, too, were among the qualities of the starbloods. They shined bright and dangerous, just like stars. 

Prince Mon-El cleared his throat. “I am happy to hear that we’ve reached a truce,” he said, breaking the spell that nearly drowned Lena in the Princess’s stare. “Queen Lillian, you were right to say that my mother is not...fond of Kryptonians. She would have rather torn apart our country before allowing the Princess to remain among us.” Lena felt a chill creep under her skin at the words. She knew Queen Rhea well enough; as young children, she’d spent some time in the Daxam court, long before her father had ceased foreign affairs altogether. Queen Rhea’s ability to manipulate and deceive was unparalleled, even by Lillian. If Mon-El said his mother was ready to destroy her own people for a chance to bring down the last of the Kryptonian royalty, Lena wholly believed it. 

“But you do not share her sentiments,” Lillian observed, turning slightly to regard the Prince. 

He shook his head. “I was a fool of a prince for a long while,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he glanced at Princess Zor-El. “She was the first to really show me what it meant to be one. I owe much to her for helping me realize how to best help my kingdom. When I become King, she will always be welcome to Daxam.” 

Lillian tilted her head slightly, an eyebrow raised. “Does Queen Rhea know you’re here?”

“Yes,” he said, though his smile disappeared. “But she doesn’t know of my involvement with this agreement. I...left her with the impression that I was coming for something else.” 

Both eyebrows raised at that, prompting him to continue. 

He turned to Lena. She looked back at him silently, knowing full well what Queen Rhea thought he was here for. 

“She believes I am here to court Princess Lena,” he said, grimacing slightly at Lena’s lack of response. She remained blank as he watched her. “So to protect Princess Zor-El, I must officially name myself among her suitors.” 

“I don’t need protecting from your mother, Mon-El,” Princess Zor-El said, scowling slightly in the dark of the study. Lena didn’t doubt that; if this woman possessed even half the abilities as Kal-El, no knight would stand a chance against her. Maybe not even an army of them. 

He didn’t appear to believe that, but he said, “No, maybe not. But I’m not about to incite a war between two kingdoms if I can help it.” 

“So what exactly is your part in this, Prince Mon-El?” Lillian questioned, sounding impatient. Lena stepped closer to her and placed a casual hand on her mother’s arm as a silent reminder. 

“He has been my emissary for the past few months,” Lena interjected. “When I heard that a woman with remarkable powers had emerged in the deep south, I decided to investigate further. Prince Mon-El was gracious enough to humor my thoughts about seeking her help.” 

“After everything that happened, I felt it only proper that I help Princess Zor-El find her people again,” he added, “so I thought this would be the opportunity to do it. Besides, if those beasts aren’t stopped, my kingdom is the next target. I plan on using my courtship and Princess Lena’s coronation as a cover to remain in National City for the next few weeks and assist Princess Zor-El with the beasts.” 

Lillian’s mouth pursed for a moment. Then, she looked back at Princess Zor-El. “And you?” she asked, “what can I expect from you?” 

A blonde eyebrow cocked sharply upwards. “The terms of the agreement are clear,” she responded, her tone cool. “I will do everything in my power to see that it is done.” 

God must have been shining on Lena in that moment. Her heart hammered madly in her chest as Lillian inclined her head. If her mother so much as mentioned Lex’s salvation, the entire arrangement might have been thwarted. 

The Prince looked between the three women around him and clasped his hands together. “Perhaps we should reconvene for dinner,” he suggested, settling his gaze on Lena. “The journey was long, and both myself and the Princess would do well with some rest. We should be in better spirits in the morning to assess military plans about the shadowbeasts.” 

For once, Lena was grateful to have Prince Mon-El in the same room. She nodded and looked at her mother with a polite, but expectant, smile. “I agree,” she said, in case Lillian pretended not to notice, “and it would be rude to keep our guests hungry and tired, Mother.” 

“So it would,” Lillian said. “Very well. The servants will escort you to your respective quarters and summon you once the banquet is ready.” 

Both the Prince and Princess dipped into a bow again. The guards moved immediately from the dark of the room. Lena had almost forgotten them, and they moved silently like cats, falling in step with Prince Mon-El and Princess Zor-El like shadows as the door opened once again. 

As Princess Zor-El stepped past Lena, she shuddered suddenly and staggered away. 

Lena blinked. “Are you alright?” she asked, reaching out a hand instinctively to help her. 

“Don’t,” the princess said sharply, her gaze raking down Lena’s body. It settled on the medallion at her breast. Her eyes narrowed, dark as cobalt. Something orange pulsed faintly under her skin. 

Lena recoiled immediately. “What’s the matter?”

“The matter?” Princess Zor-El stepped away more, standing over the threshold of the door. Her anger was nearly palpable as she hissed, “The matter, your Highness, is that you’ve welcomed me to your home, yet you wear Kryptonite like a ward. How much welcome do you expect to extend if you cannot even trust being around me?” 

Her hand flew immediately to the medallion. “What--” she started, gaping, but Princess Zor-El turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor after her guards and a servant hurrying to escort them. She was gone before Lena could even process her words. 

“Kryptonite?” she repeated, mostly to herself. She stared down at the orange crystal set into the silver. With a sharp intake of breath, Lena whirled around to face Lillian still standing in the study. “You gave me  _ starbane  _ to wear?” 

Lillian moved toward the door, unbothered by her daughter’s outrage. “Your brother made that for you,” she said, and with it echoed their earlier conversation about Lex. “He was brilliant. He knew someday you’d be in such a...situation. You may want to use this woman to save our kingdom from monsters, but you’d do best not to forget that she comes from the same stock. All I’ve done is give you the upper hand, should you need it.” 

Then she, too, disappeared out of the study, leaving Lena alone with the piece of Kryptonite glimmering amber in the low light. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if there are any continuity errors/ errors in general. I'm winging this without a beta reader, so bear with me.

Kara Zor-El wasn’t sure what to expect when she met with the Queen and Princess of Metropolis. She was aware of the kingdom’s supposed animosity toward Krypton-- it’d been building for centuries, according to Kal-El and his research, but had been nearly forgotten once their homeland was destroyed decades ago. And then when Kal revealed himself, it came crashing down on his head, all savage vehemence and blind hatred. She didn’t remember much about Metropolis from her studies as a young princess, much less any sort of hostility between the two kingdoms. Daxam had been their rival kingdom, where war divided kin and left them nursing resentment since long before Kara or her parents had been born--centuries, even; long enough to erase bloodlines and history so that Daxam could claim themselves separate from Krypton. Kara knew that Krypton kept mostly to itself and did not stray much beyond the borders of its valley, but she could never recall anything in particular that would have created such a terrible rift between her country and others beyond Daxam. Yet Kal had been driven away from Metropolis just the same. He’d explained to her the contention surrounding magic, for all the evil it had brought in the world since man had split from his magical ancestors-- but, admittedly, she still didn’t understand it.

Kara had thought this kingdom would welcome her help. Those strange creatures that prowled on the outskirts of the country were unknown to her, and Kara knew many creatures in her time. They stalked the shadows of the bordering forests and the caves of the massive canyon that separated Metropolis from its southern sisters, ceaselessly hungry for light and life. Faster, stronger, and more cunning than any animal or man Kara had ever fought or studied through the years. Nameless, soulless beasts. Magicless human armies were wet parchment in comparison.

Against a woman born of stars? The darkness would not find victory so easy.

The fading sunlight caught over Kara’s cheeks and in the brilliant blue of her eyes. Heaven’s eyes, she’d been told by the townspeople of Midvale as a young teenager, like they’d been plucked from the sky itself. They were her father’s eyes, and Kal’s. Uncle Jor-El’s and Uncle Nim-El’s. The color of a cloudless afternoon sky in the dead of summer, more blue than the petals of cornflowers that bloomed in it’s scorching light. Sometimes, the blaze of them was too strong and she would catch people watching, staring-- wondering. Her sister, in her boundless curiosity, had questioned Kara about the color of her eyes to no end. Was it magic? she would ask, relentless in her pestering. Could she cast a spell by glance alone? Kara wondered that, too, after living in Midvale for a while. From the slack-jawed marvel she’d received, Kara almost felt as though she could hypnotize anyone who dared hold her gaze for too long.

It wasn’t long until the attention she’d received had garnered enough interest that her new father was forced to intervene. To this day, Kara did not know how he came across them; only that six months after arriving in Midvale, he’d approached her one morning with a gift. A pair of small spectacles with quartz of stunningly clear quality set into round, silver-iron frames. It wasn’t kryptonite, he’d assured her. It wouldn’t harm her. She’d put them on and found, with a start, that the crispness of her vision had dimmed and the acute nature of her hearing was muted. Jeremiah was a good man, so Kara had trusted him to keep her safe. Those spectacles had done just that; in time, the people of Midvale had forgotten the enchanting blue of Kara’s eyes as they were masked by whatever magic kept her out of intrigue.

They hadn’t kept Jeremiah safe, though. She had no proof, but there was no doubt in her mind-- nor Alex’s, nor Eliza’s-- that his willingness to breach Metropolis’s law against magic to protect Kara had whisked him away somewhere unknown and dangerous. There were no guards or knights. No ambush or attack. Three weeks after he’d given her his gift, Jeremiah was simply gone. Midvale’s whispers often spoke of fae and witches, come to claim a soul of a good man as retribution for the countrywide witchhunts that had driven all magicfolk from the kingdom, but Kara did not believe them. Those rumors were spread by people naive to the inhuman men, women, and everything in between that still dwelled within Metropolis undetected. The magicfolk wouldn’t have taken Jeremiah from her. They had no rhyme or reason, when exposure or suspicion would have threatened their very existence. Still, it did not stop the officials from using his disappearance as fuel for their intolerance of the mystical, and as the vitriol and violence deepened around magic, she found herself tucking further and further away into whatever semblance of human her eyeglasses could provide.

Kara did not wear the glasses now. She still faced the sun, watching unblinkingly as the flaming disc was pulled toward the dark, dusky-purple of the mountain peaks rippling across the horizon. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks in the deepening sunset, turning the blue to fiery gold. At least without the spectacles, when she could embrace her magical heritage, Kara did not have to explain why she could stand and face the sun without flinching away. How every morning she rose with the dawn as it ushered the sun to His domain, and then again at sunset, when she stood vigil with Him until the last of His light had sunk into the dark embrace of night. It flushed over her like firelight and flooded the castle walls in rich, glowing amber. The massive windows of the castle were glossed with light like a flashing beacon nestled into the hillside of National City, and down below every other building bathed in Rao’s blazing glory, flickering the remnants of light off the glass in tiny, sparkling clusters. There was nothing else that Kara loved more than watching the clouds painted in swaths of fire as the sun sought its rest for the night, or to see the clouds behind her, opposite to the sun, blushing the loveliest shades of coral and rose.

It was the most beautiful time of day, and Kara spent it alone every time.

Under her breath, she whispered the last lines of prayer to Rao as the sun dipped completely behind the mountain range. There was gentle music drifting up from one of the floors below her, and Kara finally allowed her eyes a moment’s rest against the light before leaning against the stone balustrade to gaze down at the gardens sprawled out beneath her private balcony.

From the Princess’s letters, and the history that Prince Mon-El had shared with her, Kara had thought perhaps this was her chance to prove to the people of Metropolis that they could co-exist, magical and non-magical alike. The raven-haired beauty atop the dias would have given Kara pause any other day of her life, had she not also been the daughter of the woman wearing Metropolis’s crown. The daughter that, Kara had learned, would soon become Queen in just over a fortnight. She’d seemed pleasant enough in her letters to Mon-El, and the ceremony that she’d more or less overtaken from the Queen Regent earlier that day had settled some of Kara’s doubts, even if Queen Lillian had glared daggers into her chest at every given opportunity. Her impression of Princess Lena had been one of hope and cautious trust; Kara had thought she was looking to protect and better her country with Kara’s help. Not run it into the ground on a mad hunt to eradicate all magic from touching its soil, like her brother had been intent to do. Kara wanted to believe that this agreement of theirs would work. There was much to gain by this arrangement and everything to lose if it failed, but these Luthor women were proving to be more difficult to judge by the minute.

It hadn’t been Queen Lillian wearing a medallion of kryptonite, after all.

Kara’s gaze narrowed slightly as she glanced back up at the last of the sunlight draining from the dusk of the darkening sky. Orange kryptonite wasn’t the worst kind, at least, but there wasn’t a type Kara had come across yet that wasn’t dangerous. To her, anyway. It’d been a couple hours since her encounter with Princess Lena, but Kara still could not shake the sensation of the kryptonite’s sluggish, hungry aura as it fed on her power. Took it from her like the breath out of her lungs. Had she spent much longer around the other princess, Kara might not have been able to rejuvenate in the warmth of Rao’s light before He laid to rest. Residual anger still lingered beneath her skin, hot and uncomfortable, but the worst of it had passed. Now Kara could only contemplate the implications of Lena’s choice. It’d been the equivalent to a slap in the face, leaving Kara reeling over the possible consequences of their seemingly-mutual decision to arrange this union. Had Princess Lena changed her mind? If she kept orange kryptonite on her person, what was to say that the Luthors didn’t also possess the other kinds? Could Kara trust to stay in this castle, knowing now that she was potentially surrounded by deathstone? She was the last of her kind, and the only remaining royalty. Had she just walked into a trap?

Kara rubbed a hand against her chest, over the fabric of the formal tunic that Mon-El’s seamstress had hemmed for her. It was a rich, sleek black, threaded with Daxam red and fastened by clasps of gold. The pants were black to match, and the leather of the boots fitted specifically to Kara’s feet were supple and expertly crafted. She’d gone to Daxam with very little, much less with attire suitable enough to present in front of the royal family of another kingdom. Queen Rhea would have been suspicious if Mon-El had ordered his servants to design a trunk full of dresses instead. Besides, if her first impression of Daxam’s prince was anything to go by, Mon-El using his money for lavish costuming was not out of the realm of possibility. His help afforded her some clothing in the meantime while she figured out the complex tangle of her finances.

The music swelled again. It was mostly thin, warbling notes of violins and the richer hum of a cello; classical and airy, meant to fill the lull in conversation. Kara could hear it perfectly from her balcony, despite that she was several stories higher than the banquet hall. If she cared to try, she could have also seen through the stone and mortar into the hall itself to find Mon-El seated at a rather long table beside Lena and the Queen at the head, all facing the center of the room where court jesters and entertainers performed. Noblemen and women she didn’t know occupied nearly every other seat. Silver plates loaded the entire surface of the table, piled with meats and vegetables and other dishes that Kara had likely never tasted. She could smell them even from where she stood, and the thick, savory scent drove rumbling pains through her stomach.

Still, Kara did not move from her balcony. She still touched at her chest, where under the Daxamite tunic was a silver pendant very unlike the medallion Princess Lena had worn. It was small, and the crystal set into its facet was most certainly _not_ kryptonite. Amethyst, or purple tourmaline possibly, but as non-magical as the humans surrounding her in this castle. Her mother had once told her that this necklace would protect her from harm, and part of Kara wondered if Lena, too, thought the same of the medallion hanging around her neck.

But as far as Kara knew, neither amethyst nor tourmaline was known for siphoning out the lifeforce of another living creature, so the two weren’t very comparable.

Some movement from the front of her chambers drew Kara’s attention. She turned and stepped back inside of the room, leaving the tall balcony doors ajar behind her. A young woman had slipped through the servants’ door and curtsied to Kara once the princess re-entered. Though she looked demure and collected, Kara could hear the thunder of the girl’s heartbeat like a caged animal in her chest.

“Excuse me, your Highness,” the girl said, ducking her head low as soon as Kara’s gaze settled on her. A mane of loose flaxen curls bounced with her movement and obscured her face. She looked to be around the age of sixteen, possibly a year or so older. A housemaid, from Kara’s impression of the simple blue garb the girl wore, though she was more clean and well-kept for someone meant to scrub floors. Her voice did not tremble as much as the other servants’ did when they addressed her, which Kara appreciated. “The Princess sent me to see if you find your accommodations acceptable.”

Kara lifted an eyebrow for a moment. “Oh? You’ve not come to collect me for the banquet?”

Perhaps she’d said it too snidely-- Kara hadn’t tried to-- or perhaps the girl hadn’t been expecting more than a “yes” or “no,” in which either case she’d be dismissed immediately. The servant froze. Slowly, she lifted her chin to look up at Kara. Perhaps she was not a simple housemaid after all, given how boldly she met Kara’s gaze.

It helped that the Princess of Krypton was no longer wearing her shimmering armor, though it wasn’t enough to stop the servants from gaping and staring.

Kara waited patiently for the girl to find herself.

“Oh--n-no, your Highness,” she stammered quickly, ducking again, this time keeping her wandering stare pinned securely to the ground. Kara heard her heartbeat flutter wildly before resuming a more natural pace. “Princess Lena only wishes to know if you find your room acceptable. She-she said it was the only one she could think that had the best view of the sunset. With, you know, all the windows. B-but if you prefer the sunrise, there is another room, in the eastern wing--”

Kara lifted a hand to quiet her. The girl flinched. “This room is more than acceptable,” she said, resisting the urge to frown at the servant’s reaction. Were they beaten, here? Or was it simply because they feared her magic? She lowered her hand slowly as to not frighten her further. “I enjoy it very much.”

The girl deflated slightly with what Kara assumed was relief. She tucked a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear and curtsied again. The hair sprung back out of place. “We should hope your Highness is pleased,” she said, “but it is no trouble if you want another room, ma’am.” There was a brief pause, and then, glancing up, she added, “Prince Mon-El instructed to leave you be until after sunset.The Princess says you don’t have to join the banquet should it interfere with your...prayer.”

Kara blinked. Of all things she expected to hear that evening, it wasn’t concern on her behalf or for her religious practices. Especially from the woman that had nearly rendered her powerless with a tiny rock around her neck. Confusion welled up through her, sifting amongst the ire fading slowly from her being. She was quiet for a stretch of time as she considered her answer. What were Princess Lena’s intentions, anyway? What were the Queen’s? She was welcome with open arms one moment, and the next confronted with a magical crystal meant as a weapon solely to her kind. Not to mention that once everyone--staff and nobles alike-- had had their fill of ogling, none of them would hold her gaze or so much as strike up a conversation. Or speak to her at all. Kara absentmindedly reached for her forehead and rubbed at the little scar between her eyebrows. All of this back and forth was giving her a headache.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, “I appreciate the hospitality.” Or, some of it, anyway. But the girl appeared eager enough to please, so Kara made no mention of the awkward reception she’d received thus far. “My prayer is finished for the night, so I should join them in the hall. Would you accompany us there?”

The girl bowed low, her curls nearly brushing the floor. “Of course, your Highness. It would be my pleasure.” She exited the way she entered, and Kara moved for the grand doors of her room. It was a much bigger suite than she had been expecting-- not that she truly expected much for her living quarters, or at the very least somewhere far from the rest of the castle, considering how fearful this kingdom was of magic and its wielders. But she’d been pleasantly surprised when her escort brought her here. The walls were richly decorated in creams and golds, with hand painted scenery over nearly every surface that wasn’t covered in large, impressive tapestries. Porcelain, ivory, silver-- anything precious Kara could have likely found somewhere in her bed chambers alone. The bedding was a luxurious, gleaming silver satin, and the fur rug over the floor had once belonged to a massive white bear. Polar, if she remembered, though she’d only seen images of them in paintings and books. The ceiling was domed and high above her, allowing the balcony doors to mount nearly triple her height, if not more. She’d admired the patterned windows of the doors and those that adorned the western wall of her room, where the setting sunlight had flooded inward. At the opposite to the bed was a fireplace with a mantel of polished marble. An overall quite astonishing room, if she was honest. And that was nothing to say of the private bathhouse and lavatory attached to it.  

The fact that Princess Lena had thought to house her there was unsettling to Kara. Not negatively, at least, but it was a strange sensation following the events of earlier that day. It bubbled low in her gut and spread slowly through her limbs with a sort of languid, cautious pace that normally accompanied distrust. But it was not chilled or biting, like dread and doubt; it was warm, like hope.

Kara stepped through the doors as they were opened for her. Two guards were stationed just outside, and at her appearance they shuffled in unison after the servant girl that had come to check on Kara’s accommodations. One Daxam guard and another Metropolis, though they might as well have been from the same kingdom for all of the attention they paid her. No one spoke as she fell in line behind them.

Daxam’s castle was somewhat similar in its tendency toward luxury; gold, silver, gems and the finest fabric only the most wealthy could afford was somehow incorporated into every surface there. That had not been a surprise to Kara, for Daxam was well known for its obsession with material goods and the indulgence of wealth. She’d been more surprised to learn that their knights were not also as gilded as the rest of their possessions. Metropolis, on the other hand, apparently had some manner of restraint. Though there could be no doubt that this castle belonged to the royal family, whoever designed it was tasteful in the distribution and display of its riches--in the common areas, anyway. Each corridor they passed through was simple and clean, polished but not gaudy. A rather stark contrast to the guest quarters she’d been assigned.

Her thoughts wandered to Krypton. As extravagant as either castle was-- the Luthor’s or the Gand’s-- nothing compared to the crystal spires of Kandor. All glittering, sparkling radiance wherever she looked, cloaked in light at every step. No amount of gold or marble or rubies and sapphires could compare to the diamond towers of the Kryptonian royal palace that rose taller than any building mankind could have dreamed of; the Jewel of Krypton, it was called, and rightly so. The sunrise and sunset in the shining halls of her beloved home had been far more astonishing than any other view in the world. It was one of Krypton’s most coveted treasures, and now lost forever. Unlike much of her childhood memory, the image of Kandor never faltered in Kara’s mind, and likewise the sharp pain she felt from its destruction was never far from the ache long settled in her chest. She felt it now, but suppressed the desire to place her hand over the pendant in her tunic again as they walked.

There were many paintings on the walls, Kara realized, all of which exhibited men, women, and children she did not know and had no way of identifying; there were no names or plaques beside the frames from which she could learn who resided in each respective piece. She was acutely aware that it must have been ancestors of the royal family, for she recognized the gem-studded crown that had been placed on Queen Lillian’s head in every image. Her gaze roamed from painting to painting, hoping to find something familiar, and coming short with disappointment every time. It was curious to her that no one in these paintings looked even remotely like Princess Lena. Only a few had the same dark hair, but their eyes had been just as dark, and not the light, green-blue hue that Kara had only otherwise seen in the shallows of a tropical ocean. Then, almost faltering in her step, she remembered why.

She’d forgotten that the queen to be was a bastard. It was something Kara had never understood completely once she lived in Midvale and learned of Metropolis’s customs and history. While marriage was sacred in Krypton, it had never been the influencing power over a child’s royal heritage. Whether or not a child’s parents were joined in spiritual union had no bearing on the magic passed through the generations. The Great Houses welcomed all kin. Uncommon as it were, she couldn’t recall a time in Krypton when such circumstances led to the same belligerent attitude and shame surrounding Lena’s upbringing.

Kara was busy studying a face that appeared suspiciously similar to Queen Lillian when the servant girl drew to a stop and dipped herself before the guards.

“We have arrived, your Highness,” the girl said.

Kara looked up at the doors they’d stopped in front of. More knights stood before it, silent and watchful. None of them looked at her. In fact, the more that Kara carefully regarded them, the more apparent it became that they were purposefully avoiding her gaze. At least her guard from Daxam could look at her without breaking out in sweat, but she had a feeling it was more to sneak looks of distaste than it was out of respect. Metropolis might have feared her, but Daxam loathed her.

Discomfort rolled through Kara. She was not accustomed to instilling fear by presence alone. Maybe she should have worn the eyeglasses.

“Miss,” Kara said, turning her attention to the servant that had led their tiny procession. “What’s your name?”

The girl’s eyes widened to an alarming size. “M-miss?” she breathed, so small that even Kara nearly missed it. Her hands gripped tightly together until the pressure turned her knuckles white, and she was quiet for longer than Kara anticipated. It took the prompting lift of an eyebrow to interrupt the girl’s doe-eyed stare. “O-oh, my name. It’s Eve, ma’am. Eve Teschmacher.”

Kara smiled. The girl’s stare was slightly unnerving, but it wasn’t terrified wonder that Kara saw in Eve’s round, hazel eyes. She found it something akin to childlike reverence, and while Kara was not interested in worship, she was glad to have found someone to look at her with more than just thinly veiled revulsion or horror. “Eve, am I to be assigned an attendant during my stay?”

“Oh, of course your Highness! Only the best. She’s really wonderful, her name’s Siobhan, she’s _so good_ at braiding hair and pinning dresses--”

Eve fell silent when Kara lifted her hand, though this time she didn’t flinch at the motion.

“I would like to know if you would be my lady instead,” Kara said, as gentle and polite as she could manage in the face of bright-eyed gawking. Silently, she wondered if that was a good idea-- the girl did tend to ramble, it seemed-- but at the beaming smile that rose to greet her invitation, Kara decided Eve couldn’t be a terrible companion. She was, so far, the most interesting person Kara had yet to meet.

“Really? Me? Oh-- I-- oh, goodness,” was the first of Eve’s response, followed quickly by, “But-- if I may… why? I haven’t been--I mean I’m not a lady in waiting. I’m just a housemaid.”

Kara glanced up at the knights still standing around them. Her party remained in front of the dining hall doors, waiting on her cue. “To start, you are the only one who will even look at me,” she said, laughing softly when Eve’s gaze swiveled immediately to the others stationed around them in disbelief. She could feel the guards tense around her and heard a few heartbeats flutter in response. Regardless, none of them moved or made motion to correct their averted gazes. It was nothing for Kara to be upset over, though. She hoped one day they would come to see her as a friendly entity, not an adversary or someone to be frightened of. Kara continued, “And so far, this ‘Siobhan’ has not presented herself to me. Rather inconsiderate of a lady in waiting, wouldn’t you think? You seem well-spoken enough to be a court lady. Can you perform the duties of one? Pining dresses, styling hair, advising me in affairs of the court, teaching me the traditions of this kingdom?” Not to mention someone who knew the more intricate details of how the castle operated, but Kara decided not to share that just yet.

“Well, I-I suppose so, but I’m not someone of status, like Siobhan, and won’t the court be upset? I’m not supposed to be--”

“Where I come from,” Kara interrupted gently, “a lady does not need a title to do her duties. Would you rather not accompany me?”

Eve didn’t seem to know how to answer that. It didn’t surprise Kara that servants here would be unused to sharing opinions or having any sort of say over their own desires, but it sufficed as a reminder of how differently her country’s approach to servitude was from what appeared to be the rest of the world. Voluntary and not; her country and Mon-El’s, two kingdoms on vastly separate ends of the spectrum. It’d been one of many areas of conflict between Daxam and Krypton in the past, and it remained with Kara now, like needles prickling under her skin. Metropolis and Daxam grew more and more alike the longer she stayed.

Eve’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish gulping for air, before finally the girl stammered, “That--that would be the greatest privilege I could hope for.”

Kara smiled again. “Then I don’t see why I should need anyone else.”

Eve’s round cheeks flushed pink. Kara was startled to find the shine of tears in her eyes as she said, “Th-thank you, Princess Zor-El. I will do my absolute best to take care of you.” She lowered into another bow, and Kara had to refrain from laughing again.

She found Eve endearing for all of her stuttering charm and steadfast determination. The more personable the girl waiting on her, the less Kara would hate having to live among people who detested her. It’d been so long since she’d even had a court lady as her own company; she’d had a number of them in her youth, before the catastrophe had ripped everything she’d ever known out of her life. Her closest friends, some even since birth. Besides, after spending years as a court lady herself to Duchess Grant for several years, there was no one better suited to understand how difficult and taxing royalty could be from an attendant’s point of view. Kara resolved to do better, if not at least for the poor girl who’d acted like a whipped animal. She didn’t necessarily need someone who could brush her hair or help her into dresses or someone to embroider with; she’d learned all those things as a court lady herself, and she had no interest in allowing someone to be responsible for menial tasks she was more than capable of doing on her own. No, Kara needed a friend, someone to trust, someone to protect her interests among a court that likely was going to pit against her from the very first day. And if Eve’s reluctance was any indication, this decision was bound to make a few waves amongst the rest of the royalty as Kara intended for it to. Queen Lillian had been quick to denounce her birthright as Princess, but Kara was not about to let anyone forget that she was the last living ruler of Krypton. As dead and empty as her country may be, Kara was not-- and she was not going to allow Queen Lillian’s prejudice to strip her of what remained of her home.

Kara motioned back down the corridor with a brief wave of her hand. “Notify your stewardess about my decision,” she instructed, “and have your things moved in tonight. Should I procure some court dresses for you?”

Somehow, Eve’s eyes only grew wider. Kara started to wonder how much bigger they could get before they bulged right out of her skull. “Oh, no ma’am, that’s not necessary,” Eve said, shaking her head quickly. “I have a few from…” she paused, blinked, then amended, “I have some to wear, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to get everything set up before you return from dinner.” She moved immediately into another deep bow, but Kara reached out and stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Easy,” Kara said, flashing Eve a smile when the girl jumped under her touch. “If you’re going to be my lady in waiting, you needn’t bow to me every time.”

“But, it’s custom--”

“Consider yourself excused from such customs in my presence,” Kara said, clicking her tongue softly to quiet Eve’s protests. “You are _my_ lady now, not this court’s. My customs are a little different.”

“I--well...alright, then,” Eve said, biting her lip. The perplexed expression that crossed her face prompted a smile from Kara, who chuckled softly. “So...no bowing? What about a curtsey?”

“No bowing, no curtseying,” Kara confirmed. “And you can speak to me whenever you wish.” She lowered her voice slightly and added, “In fact, I prefer that you do, seeing as no one else wants to.”

Eve’s brow knitted together slightly at that, and she turned to look at the guards still waiting for Kara’s permission to enter the dining hall. She lifted her chin a little higher, and Kara was glad to see something of a fiery spark ignite in her eyes as she stood straighter and nodded. “Right, then. Talking, no bowing. I...I can do that.”

To Kara’s surprise, one of the guardswomen in front of the hall snorted. She was shorter than Kara, with cropped brown hair and eyes nearly the same shade. Though her expression did not change much, there was a new warmth wrinkling at the edges of her gaze. “Aye, she sure can,” the guard said, and Kara was relieved to hear the kind-hearted jest in her voice as she continued, “seeing as this one doesn’t _stop_ talking.”

“That’s not true!” Eve exclaimed, flushing pink again.

Kara huffed a soft laugh. She gave Eve a gentle squeeze-- mindful that the woman in her grip was fragile and easily bruisable under her touch-- and nodded toward the corridor they’d come through. “That shouldn’t be an issue, considering we have much to talk about now,” Kara commented, smiling over at the guard. Eve hesitated, dipped her head, and then excused herself at Kara’s direction. She watched Eve go and wondered if this was the right decision; who was to say that the girl already selected wouldn’t have done just as good a job? Kara liked to think she was a good judge of character. Eve was innocent, if not at least a little naive, but pure of heart, she was certain. And Kara had no one, now that she’d moved from out of the shadows and into the light as Krypton’s last princess. She needed trustworthy allies, and fast.

“She’s a good one,” the guard said, and when Kara turned she was surprised to see the woman watching her carefully. “Bit forgetful sometimes, though.”

“Is she truly just a housemaid?” Kara asked, eyes flickering to the other servants that ducked around the corners of her peripheral. Those that had lingered too long quickly moved out of sight again. What kind of housemaid owned court dresses was a mystery to her, especially those from a kingdom such as Metropolis or Daxam.

The guard looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, “She wasn’t always. Came from a family of knights and barons. Her brother was a squire for Prince Alexander years ago. Their father, Lord Teschmacher, was found guilty of magic usage some time back. Whole family was stripped of their titles and tossed out.”

The news burned into Kara’s chest like a hot brand. Her earlier anger flared through her body again, warm and demanding, but she kept it reigned under control. Dampened it until it simmered low in her stomach. She’d lived in Midvale since Kal-El found her as a young teenager barely crawling her way out of childhood. She’d learned the customs and laws of the new kingdom, pretended that the magic pulsing in her veins was nothing more than hormones and normal, mundane human blood, and settled into the life of a woman who hadn’t been on the path to become queen of her entire kingdom. She was aware of all the injustice that laid root in this country. The fear and hatred that attempted to choke magic out of every inch of life and strangled whatever refused to die.

Nonetheless, every time it was brought to her attention, Kara seethed.

“Thank you for the information,” Kara said, careful not to let the hardness in her heart from sharpening the edge to her voice too much. It battled with the pity swirling through her, as if it might somehow soften the blow of reality. She frowned at the servants still milling about the corridor, then turned and regarded the guardswoman again, who was watching Kara with a new wariness. “Tell me, if she was thrown out, why does she still work at the castle?”

The guard was quiet for another moment. After glancing at her companion guard, who continued to stare outward as if she weren’t a mere three feet from the conversation, the first woman said in a lower tone, “Princess Lena was able to convince Prince Alexander to let her stay. Would’ve been a scullery maid, too, if it wasn’t for her.”

Kara’s gaze strayed to the doors. The pressure behind her eyes shifted briefly before settling back into place, and suddenly she was looking into the room at the people feasting and enjoying the entertainment. Queen Lillian still sat center at the head, and there was Lena to her right and Mon-El after. Lena’s expression was bright and jovial with laughter. “I see,” Kara said to the guard, and some of the hardness fell away to distant wonder. That same peculiar feeling she’d had from learning of the Princess’s hand in assigning the guest quarters returned; it rippled through her, both pleasant and not, and for a long moment Kara was completely at loss for what to think.

Her vision returned to itself, and she blinked at the guardswomen in front of the doors. “I suppose I’ve spent enough time dallying out here,” she said, nodding to the Daxam guard and his Metropolis partner standing silently in front of her. Though neither of them said anything in return, she had the distinct feeling both of them agreed, and not in a friendly manner. Resigned to her company, Kara managed a smile toward the guardswoman who had spoken. “Thank you, again. I appreciate your help. What can I call you by?”

“Vasquez, your Highness,” the woman said, giving a short, quick bow forward as she spoke. The movement was stiff and incomplete, but the fact that the guard had yet to divert her gaze or refuse to speak at all was promising.

Kara nearly raised an eyebrow at the answer, but then she surprised herself with a short laugh. “Vasquez, then. I hope to see you more in the coming days.”

“And you, Princess.”

 

Kara wasn’t expecting the sudden hush that abruptly befell the room once her guards escorted her inside. She paused briefly beyond the threshold as several heads turned toward her, and even the soft, wavering melody of instrumental strings was cut short into awkward silence. The entertainers in the center of the hall let their props fall to the ground, and she found herself suddenly struck with annoyance.

“Carry on,” she said, and it was either the command in the strength of her voice or just the sound of it at all that spurred them back into motion. The jesters gathered their things quickly, and the musicians returned to their craft with just as much enthusiasm. The noblefolk, however, were steadfast in their oblivious gaping until Kara passed by them, returning the stare with a controlled, unfazed look of her own. As she walked, she counted the seconds of each gaze she held and discovered none would hold it more than three.

Disappointing, really.

“How _kind_ of you to join us,” Queen Lillian said, though it was plenty apparent by her tone of voice that she’d rathered Kara to stay locked away in her tower and never emerge. When Kara lifted her gaze to settle on Lillian, the queen’s pale, cold eyes were drilling into her with such unrestrained contempt that it nearly took Kara by surprise. It wasn’t until she noticed the crystal goblet of red wine clutched tight in Lillian’s hand that Kara’s rising indignation was chained back where it wouldn’t get her in trouble.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting, your Majesty,” she responded calmly, curling an arm over her abdomen and dipping herself forward. “It was not my intention to be rude.”

She heard a noise of disgust in the back of Lillian’s throat, but before the Queen could respond, the princess at her side lifted a cup, equally as filled with wine, toward Kara. She noticed immediately that Lena was no longer wearing the red dress from the entry ceremony earlier; the dress she wore now was a rich plum and made of flowing crushed velvet that shone in the light of the candles gathered around the hall. It was a sleeveless dress that looped a halter tie around her neck with a gold jeweled cord that matched the bangles around her wrists and upper left arm. Her dark hair lay in glossy, dark waves down her bare shoulders, with two thin plaits twisted back just below the golden circlet still resting over her brow. Kara could see a dark freckle on her right shoulder and the two that dotted up the smooth spanse of her throat.

“No need for apologies, Princess Zor-El,” Lena said, and the poise and clarity in which she spoke in comparison to her mother was either a testament to how much alcohol she could handle, or just how much the queen had already consumed in the time since Kara had last seen Lillian. Which, considering the number of hours that had passed since, could have been a rather alarming amount. “Your presence was not required, as I am sure you have other business to take care of.”

The strange feeling returned again, churning in Kara’s stomach. She held Lena’s gaze evenly, though she did take a moment to glance downward in search of the medallion. When she found no such jewelry hanging there-- at least, not in view-- Kara noticed a small smile upturn at the princess’s mouth.

“My business is finished,” Kara responded, colder than she meant to. Lena’s smile wavered. For whatever reason, discomfort clenched in her chest at the sight. Clearing her throat, she added, softer this time, “The rooms I were provided are...wonderful. Thank you.”

The princess’s expression brightened once more. The downward slope of her mouth was pretty, and when she smiled it reached her eyes and made the dimple on her cheek prominent. “Did Eve come to check on you? I wanted to make sure you found everything acceptable,” she said, placing down her goblet and gesturing toward the empty seat on the other side of Prince Mon-El. Lena rose to her feet as Kara made her way to the other side of the table. Mon-El followed close in suit, and at the sight of royalty rising, the rest of the room immediately clambered to imitate them.  Queen Lillian, however, remained seated.

As Kara slipped down onto her chair, Lena returned to hers. Everyone else in the room took their seats soon after. Mon-El winked at her as he moved to take a roll from one of the many baskets across their table, but soon returned his attention to the performers engaging in cartwheels and flips in the center of the room. It was amusing how similar they looked, side by side; the prince had changed into a black Daxam suit almost identical to the one Kara wore, down to the red stitching across the breast and the golden clasps. Kara’s, however, was more tailored to her figure, and Mon-El still wore the large gold buckle high on his waist. In addition, a polished brass band sat over his head with small cross-like protrusions circled around it. She made note to herself to procure a head piece of her own for future gatherings as soon as the chance allowed.

The music grew steadily louder, until the volume of it reached a comfortable level that the attention on the Kryptonian princess had lessened to tolerable quantities; something that the queen apparently preferred, as she ignored Kara outright at this point. Lena, however, waited patiently for an answer with her full attention directed solely toward her guest.

“Yes, I met Eve,” Kara started casually, offering a small, polite smile at the servant that reached to fill her glass. Two others approached with dishes of food in hand, and after glancing over the contents, she nodded at the glazed meats and whipped potatoes presented on the silver platters. It wasn’t until the food had been served onto her plate and the servants retreated that Kara continued, just as smoothly, “Actually, I mean to discuss the terms of Eve’s employment with you.”

Lena paused. Though her expression was neutral, Kara could still detect a note of apprehension as she questioned, “Oh? Did she do something to displease you?”

Despite the stoic facade she’d meant to convey, Kara smiled. “No, not at all,” she assured, scooping the potatoes with the silver spoon she’d been provided. “In fact, from the little time I had to know her, I quite liked her. I mean to make her my lady in waiting.”

Queen Lillian’s spoon clattered loudly against her plate.

Princess Lena blinked, and lowered her fork slowly to the table. Under the hum of music and conversation surrounding them, she could still hear the skip in the princess’s heartbeat.

“A lady?” the queen repeated, her voice harsh. Kara wasn’t sure if that was an effect of the wine, or simply a staple of Lillian’s inherently unpleasant demeanor. The wide stare that she turned onto Kara would have been unnerving had Kara not been royalty herself.

She kept herself lax. “Oh, do you not have those in Metropolis?” Kara countered mildly, and from the corner of her eye she could see Mon-El frown at her. He did not join the conversation, though, and instead bit into his half-eaten roll with slow, thoughtful caution.

“Was Siobhan not to your liking?” Lena asked, as her mother curled a lip and turned away. The smile had vanished into calm confusion, though the rapid drum of her heart betrayed the ease in which she spoke. Kara was interested in discovering why the news had made her so nervous, but it wasn’t the time nor place to question her just yet.  

Kara took a bite of her meal before answering. It was better than she had been expecting, and it took much self restraint not to melt at the burst of flavor on her tongue. Glancing back over at the other princess, she said, “I did not meet Siobhan. She was not present when I was seen to my quarters.”

Lena’s frown deepened. Coupled with her bold, expressive eyebrows and the natural slope of her mouth, Kara likened the look more to a pout. “My sincerest apologies, Princess,” she said, troubled. “It isn’t like Siobhan to be absent.”

Mon-El laughed at something, loud and curt. Kara found it rather inconvenient that he was centered in the midst of their conversation, but simply placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from veering forward through her line of sight to Lena.

“It’s no matter to me,” Kara said, after shooting a pointed look at the prince when he turned with a question in his raised eyebrows. He appeared to understand, and kept himself back against his seat as to not interrupt again. “As I said, I enjoyed Eve. I prefer to make my own choice for company, anyhow.”

She could see the thoughts running through Lena’s mind almost as fast as her heartbeat. Still, the princess was impressively composed, and it was only a moment’s of quiet deliberation before Lena nodded. “Of course. I completely understand.” She lifted a slender hand, and immediately an attendant came forth from somewhere behind them. “Please see to it that Eve is properly accommodated in Princess Zor-El’s chambers,” she said, and the servant nodded.

Kara watched the attendant duck back. That had gone more smoothly than she anticipated, and the relief of it displaced the heavy weight of concern that had settled in her lungs. It was remarkable to her just how out of practice she felt with exercising authority; once, she’d wielded it naturally, as she was raised from her birth to do. But it had been a long time since Kara had last enacted anything even resembling authority over another person, and she was immensely grateful to the powers above that it didn’t show.

Princess Lena did not appear intent on continuing their conversation. She was quiet and thoughtful, gazing out at the rest of the room with a sort of distant disconnect that Kara assumed had to do with Eve’s sudden promotion. Which was fine with Kara, as the first bite of food had awoken a rather voracious hunger in her that did not want to sit patiently through idle chat. She focused on her plate and ate a leisure pace, though internally she was desperate to finish at quickly as physically possible. The journey had not been so much physically taxing as it and the consequent events in Metropolis had sapped Kara’s mental and emotional reserve. She was drained of patience and had little tolerance for meaningless conversation-- she’d had plenty of it during the trip. Prince Mon-El was not terrible company, but it wasn’t quite the companionship that Kara missed. At times, he was pleasant to talk to, and Kara enjoyed the freedom of expression he afforded her and her powers, even if his followers were less inclined to appreciate it as she did. She’d been eager to leave Daxam, but now, surrounded by people nearly as intolerable as Daxamites, Kara wondered if she was ever going to feel relaxed and at peace again. She prayed that after tonight she would find herself with enough energy to deal with everything that awaited her in the morning.

 

The night was not awful, as far as awkward banquets went. Kara ate and drank and laughed at the jesters bold enough to approach her end of the table with their wild costumes and acrobatics. Which only totaled two, but it was two more than she expected to come close. Lena occasionally posed small, banal questions that Kara answered in kind-- “How do you enjoy your food?” “Very much, thank you.” “A rather perfect night for such a party, isn’t it?” “It is.”-- and so forth. The queen, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with her wine glass to pay anyone seated at the table much mind, except for the thin, weasel-looking man on her other side that she occasionally bent close to whisper impolite remarks regarding the entertainers to. Kara had found Lillian staring in her direction at one point, but the queen’s gaze rolled so effortlessly away that she wondered if Lillian was simply too drunk to remember who she was looking at.

“See? That wasn’t too difficult,” Mon-El said, leaning close to Kara with his voice just barely above a whisper. It was late into the evening, and possibly creeping somewhere into morning. The queen had dismissed herself roughly two hours before, but Lena had stayed, and Kara was not about to excuse herself in case someone thought her rude and improper for it. The Princess was engaged with a young man that Kara didn’t recognize, but who she assumed was likely a suitor from the way he smiled and postured before the table. He had only spared a single glance toward the prince and herself at the start of his conversation with Lena, but was quickly enthralled by the princess. Kara was not surprised; Princess Lena was a striking woman, and she was very capable of impressing a sense of significance in whomever she spoke to. Kara could see the effect of it on the young man as he inched closer to the table, as if he and the Princess had some sort of private rapport.

Kara tried not to wrinkle her nose at the onions on Mon-El’s breath. “So far no one has tried to murder me, so I’d say it’s far easier of a banquet than the one you hosted,” she said back, though there was no malice to her tone. She tried to ignore the loud laugh the suitor gave to whatever Lena had said, but she noticed the slight strain to Lena’s smile that followed.

Mon-El snorted. “Oh please, that was half the fun. I’d say the Luthors need some new entertainment. That’s the fourth fire-eater I’ve seen tonight, and it gets a little less impressive each time. There’s no drama, no _passion_.”

“No attempted murder, you mean.”

“Precisely.”

Kara laughed into her wine as she drank. Though wine did not inebriate her the way it did everyone else, it still coursed through her veins warm and numbing. It pried her out of the tight shell she’d shrank behind when first stepping through these halls. Leaning toward Mon-El and nearly smacking her forehead into his, she whispered, “I think maybe you’re getting a little jealous, Mon-El. Don’t have so many ladies fawning over you when they’re busy gawking at me like I’ve sprouted horns. It’s no wonder you’re bored already.”

“Nonsense,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he emptied his own glass. He smacked his lips with an audible sigh of content, and almost instantly a young woman appeared with a pitcher of wine ready in her hands. She visibly struggled to contain a sheepish smile when Mon-El thanked her directly and tilted his head, smirking, with boyish charm.

He grinned over at Kara over the full glass as the girl hurried away and remarked, “See? They adore me.”

“How wonderful,” Kara drawled, rolling her eyes. “That makes one of us.”

On the other side of the prince, Lena suddenly stood to her feet, drawing Kara’s attention as well as everyone else’s in the room. Though the music continued, the jesters stilled and the other occupants turned to face the princess. The suitor she’d been speaking to had gone; Kara spied him back in his seat, preening much like an arrogant show pigeon.

“Dear guests, I deeply thank you for your presence tonight,” she said, and Kara was impressed that Lena’s voice still did not waver or lose its regal cadence after all the wine she’d seen fill the princess’s goblet throughout the evening. “I have thoroughly enjoyed this banquet, and I hope that our honored guests have as well.” She turned toward Kara and Mon-El and smiled.

Kara nodded and returned the smile, as did Mon-El.

“Fantastic. I insist that you are welcome to stay and partake in the banquet as long as you please. I must retire for the night, but I look forward to our meeting in the morning,” Lena said, inclining forward in a short, quick bow.

Mon-El rose as well, and Kara followed. “Thank you, Princess,” he said, mimicking the bow. Glancing briefly to Kara, he added, “The banquet was excellent, but we should also retire for the night.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted,” Lena said. “Please, far be it from me to keep you both from a good night’s rest. I wish you well.”

“We wish you well, Princess,” Kara responded, dipping into a bow of her own. Lena sent one more smile her way before turning away to greet the guards, who had detached themselves from the wall at Lena’s parting words. One of them was a woman with long, thick dark hair and eyes the color of damp earth. Though the guard only looked at Kara in passing, she was not tense or reproachful like the companion guard who accompanied her. Kara ignored the other guard’s narrowed glance as Lena addressed them.

“Suppose I will see you in the morning, then,” Kara said to Mon-El, as his own escort of Daxam knights moved to meet him. They, too, avoided Kara, as neither of them cared to look in her direction. Only when one of their own came to take his position as Kara’s escort did they acknowledge that she stood nearby.

“After dawn, of course,” Mon-El said, as if she’d forgotten. He took up her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. “Goodnight, Princess.”

Kara tried not to redden. It was not the first time he’d done so, but it was still an unusual custom to her. In Krypton’s standards, it was an intimate gesture, and not something she cared to partake in front of a room full of nobles of a country she didn’t belong in. Even during her time in Midvale, Kara had never become accustomed to it. Still, it was too late to protest, so she simply smiled close-lipped and waited until he retreated a few steps before gesturing for her guards to follow. Princess Lena proceeded them through the doors, though it became apparent that the guest quarters were far removed from the royal chambers as she and her company turned immediately down another path.

The corridor was darker than before and flickering in the low light of the candlesticks lining the walls. She and the prince parted halfway down, and the deep silence that hung in the walkway was surprising after the night of boisterous noise and music. Only the soft click of boots over the marble and the groan of soft leather in motion could break it, but even then, it was the most peace she’d heard since her vigil that afternoon.

Kara was still not sure what to expect after spending an evening beside the Princess of Metropolis and her mother, who seemed impatient to be rid of Kara in whatever capacity she could manage. Then there was Lena, who was kind and generous in all of her interactions, yet was strangely distant in a way that left Kara without a true impression of what the princess was actually like. It had only been a single night and already they were both giving her a headache. Kara hoped that come morning, everything would have settled a little more; perhaps the servants would stop acting like she was a wild animal, or the nobles like she was a marvel on display for their scrutiny. Perhaps Kara would finally get to speak to the Princess on terms that weren’t dictated by the Queen’s restless abhorrence. And as much as the planning and strategizing was necessary for their approach to the beasts, Kara wanted nothing more than to just sink her fists into a shadowy carcass and be done with them already.

She held back her sigh. For now, Kara would have to be patient. She could very well jeopardize her chance at undoing one of Metropolis’s oldest laws if she did not cooperate.

The guards halted as they neared the doors to her guest quarters. She waved a tired hand at them in dismissal; two other replacements were already stationed there, silent and waiting. Her escorts needed no more encouragement and immediately turned to find their way to the barracks. She watched them leave, and though it was tempting to eavesdrop on whatever remarks they might feel to make about her, she kept her powers in check. Any other time Kara might have listened in, if only to know what rumors might be floating through the castle, but tonight she was simply too tired to care.

Kara reached for the door, then stopped.

Despite her reluctance to eavesdrop on the guards, she could still hear someone beyond the wood of the doors to her quarters. The heartbeat inside was metered, calm, and unfamiliar. Whoever it was hummed lightly under their breath to a tune she did not know, and the quiet confidence of it sent a chill of warning through her skin. Gentle pressure flickered across Kara’s eyes; there, inside, was a young woman seated on the bench beside the fireplace.

It was not Eve.

Slowly, she pushed the doors open.

A fire hissed and crackled softly in the corner, throwing shifting orange light across the rest of the room and dancing over her armor on its rack on the far side. Small candles were lit against every wall, lending to the dim glow that illuminated the face of the girl sitting in wait for Kara. The chestnut-brown of her hair gleamed a soft auburn in the firelight, matching the shade of her eyes almost perfectly. She had thin, pretty eyebrows, and a slender face most becoming of a noblewoman. Her dress was a deep emerald in color, simple, but embroidered with reds and golds in curling patterns over the skirt.

At Kara’s entrance, she stood to her feet and curtsied. “Good evening, your Highness,” she said, and her voice held a perfect, pleasant sweetness that Kara recognized from her time as a court lady for Duchess Grant. Nearly every lady she’d ever come across in court had that same tone-- the saccharine innocence of a person who used it as a mask.

Kara stared at her.

The girl smiled, somewhat uncertain. “I’m Siobhan Smythe, ma’am. I am to be your lady in waiting during your stay here,” she said, as if Kara couldn’t have pieced it together herself.

Something ugly and hot flushed through Kara. “Where is Eve?” she said softly, though it did nothing to hide the cold warning enunciated with every word. Either Siobhan was dense, or she was terribly good at keeping herself composed-- not even a jump in her heartbeat as Kara stepped closer. The doors closed heavy and dull from behind.

Instead, Siobhan smiled again and let a breathy laugh fill the dead silence between them. “Who?” she started, and then, at the faint narrowing of Kara’s gaze, she added, “Oh, the housemaid?” Her shoulders shrugged, light and uncaring. “I wouldn’t know, your Highness. Wherever housemaids are supposed to be for the night, I suppose.”

Kara felt her hand twitch with the instinct to curl it into a fist. She did not like Siobhan; the sharp, unbothered smile the girl wore belonged to that of women whose motives were devious and self serving. Somewhat like Queen Lillian, if Kara had to compare, or even Queen Rhea. Kara studied her closely. On the surface, Siobhan seemed nice-- sweet, even, if Kara went no deeper. Sweet enough to please a crowd and flatter the right people with the right words. She could remember a time when men and women of the same ilk would approach her in Krypton’s royal halls, seeking whatever manner of favor they could with the young princess before she came of age to take the rule from her uncle. The sort to weasel their way close to nobility for their own personal gain. They existed at Duchess Grant’s estates too, like a disease that spread in a ravenous search of self embellishment.

Siobhan moved from her place beside the fire to the canopied bed nearby. With quick, deft hands, she drew back the thick quilt to expose the shine of the silver satin bedding beneath. “I’m sure you’re quite tired, ma’am, after such a long day,” she said as she folded the blanket down in preparation. Kara saw a gown of silk laid across the foot of the bed to be used for bed clothing. Siobhan picked it up and draped it over the back of the tufted cream armchair beside the vanity. “Don’t worry yourself with trivial matters now. You should get some rest.”

The girl continued to speak, but Kara no longer listened. Instead, she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. There were many sounds for her to focus on, and considering she did not know the layout of the castle yet, it made pinpointing any particular sound rather difficult. Siobhan’s blathering was of no help, either, though eventually the girl must have realized Kara was not paying her any heed, for she fell silent shortly after.

Various noises drew her attention. The scrape of stone over steel from the kitchen, where scullery maids and scullions sharpened knives for the next day’s work. The slap of water-logged cloth over polished marble and the squeak of boots over a wet floor, a rough curse as a bucket dropped with a loud splash, the soft trickle of conversation from servants and guards as they passed through the otherwise unoccupied halls. In the distance, a disgruntled whinny and bang of hooves against wooden stall doors that Kara identified immediately as the prince’s mare and the whispering scrape of a straw broom over cobblestones. All over the castle, doors shut with the click of iron and wood, or groaned on their hinges as they were pushed open. Someone, somewhere, read a book and Kara could hear the slip of paper against paper as each stiff page was brushed over. Muted laughter. Rapid, panted breaths, skin against skin...

“... _Teschmacher_.”

Kara moved faintly to face the direction of the snarled name. It was the rugged voice of someone who had long since forgotten the meaning of kindness, possibly from an older woman from the pitch of its timbre. She spoke the name like it was sour.

Hiccuping cries followed shortly after. Then, the distinct rip of fabric.

More small, stifled sobs.

Whatever irritation Kara felt at Siobhan’s intrusion bottomed out from her as if she’d been emptied of all emotion. A chill gusted through her, clawing dread up from her stomach to her throat. Kara’s eyes snapped open. Those claws gripped in her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Then, as the dawning finally took hold, white-hot flames shot forth through her center until the bile of it tasted of ash on her tongue.

The doors flew open and slammed into the supporting walls with such concussive force that it shook the door frame and toppled over a vase of flowers on a nearby console. The guards nearly jumped out of their boots and scrambled for the swords fastened to their belts. Kara strode by, all savage, terrible fury, without sparing so much as a thought in their direction. The shadows of the candlelight only served to darken the dangerous expression she wore, though her eyes still burned as bright and blue as blazing starlight.

The guards glanced inside the room, where Siobhan stood blinking after her.

Kara did not need an escort to find the main servant’s quarters. It was a separate wing off the backside of the castle, tucked far enough away that she might not have ever noticed it while exploring the grounds. Her penetrating vision afforded her enough foresight to find the hidden passages and doorways to cut her journey into mere minutes. Whenever she emerged through doors and passageways, the servants scurried away like frightened ants and the knights stationed in each corridor shuffled forward, then back, then forward again out of bewildered concern.

Someone must have alerted the stewardess, for as Kara stalked toward the double doors that led to the servant’s wing, a woman with graying hair wound into a tight bun and a wide-set mouth opened them and barred Kara’s way. Unkind grooves set into the wrinkles of her mouth and cheeks, like someone who’d spent much of her time scorning and sneering down at others.

Kara stopped short of barreling her over. Unlike nearly every other person she’d met so far, this woman did not flinch when Kara met her gaze. It was hard and callous, just like the rest of her.

“Can I be of some assistance, Princess Zor-El?” the woman asked, her tone cool but controlled. An attempt at pleasantry, though it did not do much to mask the bite from snaking through. Behind her, deeper into the servant’s quarters, Kara could hear hushed whispers and a faint, muffled whimper.

Kara fixed the stewardess with a burning stare. “You can get out of my way,” she commanded sharply. Her voice echoed off the wooden walls and polished floors, and a few of the servants ducked back at the sound of it.

For a moment, it seemed as though the woman was not going to move. Then, she inclined her head slightly forward and turned on her heel to let Kara through. “Of course, your Highness,” she said, and Kara breezed by, her boots clicking loudly against the slats of wood that composed the floor.  

“Where is she?” Kara demanded, looking to the handful of women that peeked out from around curtains and doorways. There were too many of them to narrow down exactly where Eve would be-- too many heartbeats to filter through.

One of them, a tall, lanky woman with her hair tucked into an old rag, pointed toward another room. Kara followed it immediately, not caring that the handle broke in her hand as she forced the door open.

It was a gathering hall of some kind. The room was relatively large, with empty storage crates spread in a half-circle over one side. Dining quarters, possibly, from the abandoned trays that lay on the floor and atop boxes. A small chest sat open and abandoned in the center, surrounded by shreds of colorful fabric that lay in piles over the ground. The large window set into the far wall illuminated the room in bright moonlight that sparkled over small, jeweled beads scattered on the floor once woven into the torn material. Under the window, huddled low against the wall, were three girls. The one in the center with her trembling hands pressed into her face was Eve.

The two others fled as soon as Kara came close. She dropped down onto her knees and placed a gentle hand over Eve’s shoulder. The girl jerked, startled, but caught the small whine in the back of her throat as she blinked tearfully up at Kara.

Even in the dim of the moonlight, Kara could see a dusky bruise rising over Eve’s brow and the red, blotchy imprint of a hand across her cheek. The corner of her bottom lip was split and swollen. Wetness coated her cheeks and chin, which wobbled as Kara gingerly touched the side of her face. Dirt smeared over her forehead and jaw, and as feather-light as she could manage, Kara wiped it away.

“I am so sorry Eve,” she said, nearly a whisper. Sickness gripped Kara. This was her fault. She was directly responsible for Eve’s treatment. The girl wouldn’t have suffered, wouldn’t have lost what was likely the last of her material possessions, had Kara kept her politics out of the castle’s affairs. Guilt gnawed through her stomach, up through her chest and into her heart.

“I tried to tell them,” Eve said in a small voice, smoothing back some of the blonde curls that were in disarray around her face. She closed her eyes, and a droplet slipped from her eyelashes down her cheek. Kara caught it on her thumb. “They didn’t believe me.”

The guilt twisted deeper. It pierced like an iron barb and, had Kara not had the training of a princess, would have made it terribly difficult to breathe. “That’s not your fault,” Kara said, searching Eve’s half-lidded eyes for the hope that the girl wasn’t completely broken. It was hard to tell through the tears that spilled down her face. Anger rose within Kara, searing and brilliant. She gripped Eve a fraction tighter and Eve winced. “This is not your fault,” she repeated, louder this time, and it took much of her dwindling self control not to bare her teeth with the fury boiling up through her insides. Princess Lena had told someone to pass along the information-- Kara had seen it and heard it herself. If they wouldn’t obey Kara’s wishes, the servants must have at least seen to it that an order from their own princess was followed.

Kara let go of Eve and stood to her full height again. When she turned around to face out toward the room, the stewardess was standing in the doorway Kara had come through, watching with a purse to her mouth as if she were waiting for Kara to finish up and leave.

“Ms.Teschmacher is not permitted to be in court,” the woman said, unperturbed by the ferocity of Kara’s dark expression. “She knows this, and pursued Miss Smythe’s rightful position regardless. She is an attendant of the Crown of Metropolis and has a job for which she was hired to do.”

“And of Princess Lena’s request?” Kara challenged, bristling.

The stewardess lifted a graying eyebrow. “What request?”

Kara stared, the silence of the room descending around her like an oppressive force. She’d seen the servant leave the banquet hall at the Princess’s instructions. Had the attendant failed to deliver the instructions? Had she been intercepted by a new order? Had this woman disregarded the order entirely for some other purpose? The possibilities of it were giving Kara a stomachache. Someone was intent on making sure Siobhan remained Kara’s attendant-- but for what reason, or to what end, Kara couldn’t figure.

Then, suddenly, she was struck with a thought.

A scathing heat wound through Kara as she growled, “The Queen must be rather fond of this Siobhan to be so intent on making sure she stays my lady in waiting. Tell me, does Siobhan report to you about my activities, or directly to Queen Lillian?” She stepped closer to the stewardess, silently pleased that the woman had the sense to look a little stiff at Kara’s approach this time. They were barely a foot apart; though matched in height, Kara almost towered over the stewardess from the blaze of power that emanated from her being. Anger contorted in Kara like a beast of its own accord as it sneered through her voice, “Should I make it easier for everyone and show you what I’m capable of? Save you the trouble of having your little spy run back and forth?”

“I assure you Princess, the decision to keep Siobhan as your attendant was done with your best interests in mind,” the woman said, recoiling slightly.

Kara was a trained warrior. She’d learned the finer nuances of battle as a young child, before Krypton met its fiery death, and again under the wing of her cousin once she’d emerged from her stasis locked deep in the mountains. She’d traveled thousands of miles off the coast to where the greatest warriors dwelled, and trained for years until her body and soul had been reshaped into more than just a lost princess in search of a home-- she’d become more than a warrior, more than a knight. She was discipline, endurance, patience. Humility.

She forgot it all in a single moment.

Her hand snatched the fabric at the front of the stewardess’s dress and yanked the woman close, twisting tightly. She could see her own eyes reflected back aglow with shining white starfire. “And what of Eve’s best interests?” Kara hissed, ignoring the shrill squeals that erupted from the other servants clustered in the shadows around the room. With barely a thrust of her hand, she sent the stewardess tumbling back until her feet slipped out from under her and she crashed against the doorframe. There was true terror in the stewardess’s eyes now, unrestrained and vibrant as she stared up at Kara. “Perhaps that is the true difference between your kind and mine,” Kara continued, and her words echoed loudly in the terrified silence of those watching her. “You cower in the face of magic for all it’s evil, yet it’s second nature for you to abuse and neglect your own people.”

“What’s the meaning of this?”

All eyes, including Kara’s, swung to the doors on the opposite side of the room. A pair of knights stood there, weapons drawn. Between them was Siobhan, clutching the arm of Princess Lena, who gazed into the servant hall with wide, startled eyes. She was still in her violet dress and sparkling accessories from that evening, so it was likely that Siobhan caught the princess just after she reached her own chambers.

Kara’s anger did not diminish, but the glow of her eyes faded away. She’d been too focused on the stewardess and her own writhing anger to notice the princess’s entrance. She took a half step to face the newcomers and made a noise of annoyance when the movement elicited another string of alarmed gasps.

“Perhaps you ought to ask your mother,” Kara snapped, meeting Lena’s gaze with as much blistering animosity as she felt. Then, glancing to the girl at Lena’s arm, she added, “Or don’t. Miss Smythe seems sharp enough to figure it out. I’m sure that’s why she was supposed to be my shadow in the first place.” She turned on her heel and moved back to where Eve still sat on the ground. Eve had managed to wipe most of the dirt and tears from her face, but the purpling over her eye was unmistakable. Crouching low, Kara took up Eve’s hand and helped the girl to her feet.

When she turned to look back at everyone, the stewardess was also standing and the princess had moved deeper into the room, looking around with a stricken expression. Kara saw Lena’s gaze fall to the shredded remains of Eve’s court dresses and freeze. Her heartbeat was louder than anyone else’s in the room, and it tripped over itself as Lena lifted her gaze slowly to meet Kara’s again.

Kara swallowed down whatever tentative expectations she had about Lena and stated, “Now, I hope I’ve made myself clear. I _will_ make my own decisions about my company. I don’t know what kind of country you intend to run, Princess, but I should hope it would have been better than... _this_.” She waved at the stewardess, who said nothing.

“I don’t--” Princess Lena began, but Kara lifted a hand.

“Don’t worry, princess,” she cut in bitterly, “I’ll make sure your staff is properly compensated for the loss of a housemaid, since it seems so terribly important to you.”

Lena said nothing else. In the moonlight, her bright eyes looked almost silver, and they followed Kara as she led Eve toward the door with a wavering shine that Kara couldn’t think about right then. The princess ran a palace built on slavery, and she had the audacity to look crestfallen when the ugly truth of it was exposed? Even as Kara marched away from the servant’s quarters, Lena’s sorrowful face stayed with her in the back of her mind. The image of it ate at Kara’s anger until the ashes left her somewhere between hollow and hopeless.

The prospect of weaving through halls and passages again was daunting. As soon as Kara led Eve from the servant’s quarters, she drew up short and looked back at her companion.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and all of the ferocity in her voice was gone, drained and replaced by a tender worry that she made no effort to conceal.

Eve skimmed her fingertips over the bruise. Its color was spreading over her eye and a little down the side of her face. From the shape of it, Kara assumed that the stewardess’s strike across Eve’s face had sent the girl face-first into something, like a crate or the wall. “I think so,” she answered quietly, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the double doors at the end of the corridor.

Kara took her gently by the elbow and led her around the corner.

“Which way leads us outdoors?”

Eve blinked. Kara could see the question rising as Eve opened her mouth, but then the girl hesitated, and gestured toward a single, inconspicuous door several yards away. Immediately, and without explanation, Kara took Eve’s hand again and pulled her through. It was another passageway, one Kara believed reserved only for servants from the way the walls were cramped and dark and the bare stone floor was worn in a path where hundreds of feet tread across it over the years. It snaked around a few bends, and they passed several other doors before arriving at the end.

The night air was crisp and sharp against Kara’s skin and in her lungs as they stepped outside. Eve shivered immediately, curling in on herself under the thin dress she wore. It was much later into the night than Kara expected; the moon was high above them as a thick sliver of luminous ivory swimming in a sea of a million winking stars. Kara gazed up at the sky, astounded by the stroke of faint silver where many of the stars were clustered together in a ribbon of soft, glimmering light. As much as she adored the sun and its loving brilliance, there was something so mesmerizing about the night sky that drew Kara in, like a voice beckoning from the void of the heavens.

Eve’s chattering teeth woke Kara from her spell.

“Let’s get you warm,” she said, gently curling and arm around Eve’s shoulders. In one quick, fluid motion, Kara bent and scooped the girl into her arms, and she fell like a doll against Kara’s chest with a short squeal of surprise. She was no heavier than what Kara imagined a human carrying a cat would be like, and her small frame made lifting her easier than Kara anticipated.

“Your Highness...?” Eve questioned, glancing around, though she made no motion to free herself of Kara’s grasp. Her knees hinged over Kara’s forearm, bare feet dangling in the air.

Kara smiled. “Hold tight,” she said, and immediately Eve clutched to her with wide eyes.

 

To Kara’s relief, Eve did not shriek or scream or otherwise vocalize any sort of fear when they rose in the air and soared over the Luthor castle to Kara’s balcony. Her grip on Kara’s shoulder was tight and unforgiving, but she did take a few moments to peer down at the world falling away below before burying her face into Kara’s tunic with a shaky exhalation. Otherwise, beyond the low hush of the night wind around them, the short flight was quiet. However, as soon as Kara’s boots touched down on the stone and they were once again stable, Eve released a loud sigh of relief.

Kara was aware of the person inside her chambers before ushering Eve inside. When the girl stopped abruptly, Kara encouraged her further inside with a gentle pressure against the back of her shoulders.

“It’s alright, Eve,” Kara said, sounding tired as she closed the balcony doors behind her.

The woman standing in the middle of the room was scowling in the dim light of the candles left burning after Siobhan’s departure. Her red-brown hair was nearly cherry in color from the low firelight, and it was cut close to her chin on one side of her jaw and cropped closer to her ear on the other. She wore form-fitting leather armor that belonged to no other knight Kara had yet to see roaming the halls of the Luthor castle.

The woman’s dark, almond shaped eyes were narrowed to thin slits. Her arms crossed over her chest piece, and had it been any other person, Kara might have felt concerned for her personal safety from the murderous stare the woman pinned her with.

Kara placed a hand on Eve’s shoulder to reassure her. “Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up,” she said, nodding toward the private bath house and additional quarters attached to her chambers. She offered Eve a weary smile. “We can discuss all of this in the morning.”

Eve looked between Kara and the newcomer with round, uncertain eyes. Then, after it became apparent that there would be no introduction or explanation for the other woman’s unannounced presence, she quickly and wordlessly scampered off in the suggested direction.

As soon as Eve was no longer within earshot, Kara turned to face the knight. Her smile vanished.

“I thought you were in Star City for the next three weeks,” Kara said, without meeting her guest’s intense gaze.

Her greeting went ignored. “Just what were you _thinking_ ?” the woman hissed instead, throwing a hand after the departing girl. “Kara, you can’t just-- you assaulted a servant of the Crown! You could be _exiled_ for less!”

Kara undid the gold clasps at her tunic and let the garment fall to the ground unceremoniously as her sister spoke. The pants and boots she wore followed soon after. As she pulled on the silk gown, she muttered, “I’m already in violation of their archaic magic abolishment by simply _being_ here--an exile isn’t any different. That poor excuse for a woman is fine, anyway. I didn't hurt her.” Kara might have lost her temper, but she had enough of a wrangle on her self control to not outright injure someone else. Not seriously, at least. “A little shaken, likely, but not harmed. I’m not that much of an idiot, Alex.”

“That’s not the point,” Alex snapped, pacing in front of the fireplace. Her shadow danced over the bear skin rug and across the ornate bedspread. “If you can’t control--” she stopped, glanced over her shoulder in the direction Eve had left, and then resumed in a lower, yet no less harsh, voice, “If you can’t control yourself here after one night, you will _never_ lift the ban on magic in this country. All you’re going to do is make people more needlessly afraid than they already are. You could be _killed_.”

Some of Kara’s fury resparked. “I will not sit back and allow a young girl to be punished because of my mistake!” she shot back in a sharp, angry whisper, “This was _barbaric_ , Alex.”

“That is how things work around here,” her sister retorted, just as vehement.

Kara looked toward the rest of her guest quarters, where she could hear the splash of water as Eve bathed herself. She thought of Eve’s hopeful smile when Kara had first mentioned her intentions to make her a lady in waiting. How that hope had been beaten from her-- stolen-- and replaced with terror and anguish.

“No,” Kara said, looking back at Alex with resolution steeling her gaze. “Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, next chapter is Lena POV. And as always, I appreciate feedback! It helps keep me motivated to continue the story.


	3. Chapter 3

Lena turned slightly from where she lay across her bed, her dark hair fanned out to frame her like a shiny black halo. The room was somber in the cloak of shadows that flickered and wavered in the low candlelight, casting a soft, eerie glow over the walls and furniture. Lena watched as her attendant drew back the drapery over the windows, only to sigh at the looming darkness beyond the glass still glittering with stars and gentle moonlight. A soft streak of blue light edged its way over the horizon through the windows facing east.

Jess glanced over her shoulder at Lena and scowled. “Did you manage to sleep at all?”

Lena closed her eyes momentarily and reached up a hand to rub over her eyelids.

“I can’t, Jessica,” she muttered, sighing into her hand as she dragged it down her face.

“Oh, don’t ‘Jessica’ me,” her lady shot back, moving from the window to sit on the edge of the princess’s bed. Though she glared down at Lena, there was no mistaking the warm concern still evident in her expression. “No excuses. You are exhausted. Stop punishing yourself for something out of your control.”

Lena threw her hands upward much like a petulant child. “I’m going to be Queen! Everything has to be under my control,” she responded, exasperated. “Especially this. If this goes all to _shit_ , I’m finished. I will have been worst queen in history. That’s even if I get a chance to be one, if we don’t all get slaughtered by those shadowbeasts before then.” One arm draped over her face, obscuring her eyes from view. She was too tired to cry, but awake enough that emotion spun aimlessly through her being, lost and dazed. There were no tears; she was empty of them, and filled instead with a kind of hollow, buzzing numbness that typically followed emotional breakdown. The space behind her eyes burned, and the headache coupled with her fatigue was eating away at her patience like a starved mouse on grain.

She felt a light smack on her elbow from her attendant as Jess said, “My lady, do try to at least _sound_ like a Queen and not a rotten child. Whining does not become you.”

“You’re heartless.”

Jess laughed. “No, I’m not.”

Lena sighed, long and heavy. “No, you’re not,” she muttered, shifting onto her side and allowing her arm to fall back against the sheets. “I’m sorry.”

Jess kept her hand on Lena’s forearm. It was warm and gentle, and the reassuring squeeze she gave helped settle some of the frantic anxiety attempting to bury itself deep into Lena’s bones. “Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “You have much to handle. I know it’s stressful.”

Lena gestured vaguely toward the rest of her chambers. “It’s not just that there is so much I have to do and be aware of,” she started, staring at the waving candlelights. She took a deep breath, and it staved off some of the weight of her exhaustion that pulled her farther and farther into a spiral of half-awareness. “I don’t--” she paused, glancing instinctively toward the door. Lena could imagine Lillian lurking there, listening to Lena lament and curse, but knew that her mother would never enter her bedchambers without preamble. Or ever, really. Not out of respect, but for the frank truth that Lillian had no interest in surrounding herself in a place dedicated solely to her daughter. Lena supposed she should have been grateful to be given space and to have her own boundary against her mother. Most children wanted that kind of independence, and certainly when they took their first tentative steps into adulthood. But part of Lena craved the intrusion, some kind of invasion of her space, at least enough to feel like Lillian cared enough to do so. That she cared at all.

Lena exhaled again, long and soft. “I feel very alone,” she admitted. “I know I have you, and the others, but…”

Jess nodded. “It’s not the same,” she returned, smiling sadly.

Somehow, hearing aloud it only made her feel worse. “No,” Lena agreed. She patted Jess’s hand over her elbow, and sighed again.

Jess stood up from the bed and left somewhere toward the corner of the room that Lena wasn’t facing toward. From behind, Lena suddenly heard, “You know, I’m fairly sure there’s someone else who feels much like you right now.”

Lena’s eyebrows drew immediately together before the implication clicked in her thoughts. She huffed a mirthless laugh and shook her head. “I can’t even imagine what she must be feeling,” she said. The memories of last night still rampaged in her mind like the scene had been branded there with a white-hot iron. Princess Zor-El, in all of her blazing, righteous fury, was a terrifying sight to behold. She wondered what the princess must look like when she wasn’t holding back; Lena found herself suddenly possessed by the desire to see the last Princess of Krypton thundering into battle astride her armored stallion.

Or flying, as Lena had watched her do through the servants’ dining hall window mere hours ago.

“You should talk to her,” Jess said, reappearing in Lena’s peripheral with a garment in her hands. It was a long, flowing dress of a soft ivory and hemmed in a silvery-gold around the waist and skirt. Simple and elegant-- her favorite. “If anyone knows what it means to feel alone, it’s her.”

Lena pulled herself upright from her bedsheets and smoothed down the few wild curls of her hair from her face. “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she said, gazing distantly at the dress in Jess’s hands. She still thought about Princess Zor-El; of all the stories she’d ever heard about the starblooded Kryptonians, of everything she’d come to know about Kal-El, and now of how Lena had somehow inadvertently managed to piss off the last remaining royalty of Krypton twice in the span of a single day. “But how presumptuous of me to think my issues would ever amount to whatever she’s gone through. _Going_ through. She’d laugh in my face.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” Jess returned, tipping her head toward the triple mirror on the far side of the room. “She doesn’t seem the kind.”

Lena managed a small smile despite herself. “No, she doesn’t. But she certainly isn’t going to enjoy my company after what she must think of me now,” she said, following her lady to the mirrors and standing steadily in place as Jess’s quick fingers undid the ties to her nightgown. The ivory dress was placed aside as Jess draped a silk robe around Lena’s shoulders.

They walked together quietly for the baths attached to Lena’s quarters. The house itself was grand and marbled everywhere, except for the wooden slats that led directly to the large, open tub filled with steaming water, the surface of which was littered with rose petals and other previously dried herbs. Several tall, empty ceramic jugs sat nearby. Two other girls waited beside the basin and helped Lena--after shedding her robe-- into the near-scalding water when she approached.

The heat seeped into Lena’s muscles and pulled the weariness from her bones as it slid up her calves, thighs, ribs, and over her shoulders. The scent of the rose water was faint and sweet, but noticeable still, and mixed into the floral fragrance of sage leaves, lavender, and camomile blossoms that permeated the bathhouse. It coaxed out much of her anxiety and troubles from where she kept them stored safely in the recesses of her heart until the tension leached from her body and dissolved into the water, swirling between the floating leaves and misting up around her face in a blossom-scented vapor. Her headache likewise vanished at an impressive speed.

As she slipped down, Lena tried not to picture the princess as she’d seen her last night. Tried not to remember the furious glow of starshine in her eyes as she knocked the stewardess back by a mere flick of her wrist. And most definitely, Lena tried not to think of the gentleness Princess Zor-El had shown Eve, and how Lena had watched her scoop up the housemaid like a doll and fly over the palace to her own private balcony. How different the versions of the Princess were, as if two vastly different people were harbored in one impressive form.

The water undulated against her jaw. Lena closed her eyes slightly and stared into the surface of refracted light, watching without focus as the petals bobbed in the water and brushed against her naked figure. She swirled one crumpled rose petal, purple-wine in color, in an absent-minded circle with the tip of her finger. Hands pulled her hair back and someone carefully poured a cup of water over her head. The heat of it snaked down her scalp and over her shoulders, trailing a tingling pleasure along with it. She did not move as it trickled down the sides of her cheek and over her eyes.

This Princess was so curious to Lena. Perhaps it had been an error on her part not to exchange the letters directly with the Princess herself-- to allow Mon-El to act as her keeper, of sorts. Lena had thought it merely necessary for the secret nature of their communication, but part of her wondered if it was more out of her own innate sense of self preservation. Was she scared of speaking to Princess Zor-El directly? Lena frowned slightly, blinking as drops of water dribbled over her eyelashes. Long fingers massaged soap into her hair that smelled of sugar and cloves.

It certainly didn’t help that she’d been wearing an amulet of starbane when first speaking with Princess Zor-El in private. Not that it was really her fault, but she should have known-- should have understood that gleam in her mother’s eye when she tucked the medallion over Lena’s head. Should have heard it in her voice when she casually ignored Lena’s puzzlement over its purpose.

A flare of anger curled within Lena. Lillian had purposefully soiled the first impression Lena made on the Kryptonian princess. And it did not help Lena’s case that Lillian had sabotaged the princess’s attempt to claim her own court lady, however odd of a choice it was. Now the blame of those transgressions fell solely on Lena, and she wasn’t sure that Princess Zor-El was going to be willing at this point to even listen to her. This was supposed to be an alliance-- friendship, if Lena dared to hope-- and it was already crumbling before there was even a foundation. How much more could she stumble before the whole thing came crashing down around her?

Lena sighed and closed her eyes as Alana gently urged her head back until the water soaked through the suds in her hair. One of the girls hummed quietly, and in the distance-- likely in the parlor-- she heard the soft tones of conversation as food was brought in. There would be no breakfast feast today, not when there were battle plans to be made. Hopefully this wouldn’t count as another mark against her; hosting foreign royalty was still new to Lena, and based off only what she knew from her younger years when her father was still alive and willing to receive guests. Lillian was no help-- not that Lena would even dream of asking for her help with such a thing-- and Mon-El was….well, Mon-El. No matter how much of a difference Princess Zor-El might have made in his princeship, Lena had known him since they were small children. She couldn’t imagine he would suddenly be a wealth of knowledge of all things political.

Speaking of Mon-El, Lena was reminded of the strange bond he seemed to share with the Princess. Were they involved? The way he looked at her over the feast when Princess Zor-El wasn’t looking-- there was little else Lena imagined it could have been. She didn’t blame him; the princess was a stunning creature, if not entirely intimidating. If it hadn’t been for her birthright, Lena didn’t doubt the princess would have amassed a flock of suitors by now. The Prince himself was no stranger to courtship and the affections of many women across the gentry. He could have selected any woman he so desired that morning and any other after. She was faintly surprised to think Mon-El would be so bold, considering what his mother had hammered into his head from the time he could say the word _Kryptonian_. So what kind of tangled web was she spinning, if the Prince of Daxam was supposed to be courting her-- not that she wanted it-- and was instead found to be consorting with his country’s centuries-long enemy? Lena couldn’t even picture what Lillian would have done, much less Queen Rhea. Whatever was between them, they would have to keep it quiet until Lena had a better hold on the entire ordeal.

She lost herself to thought as Alana worked the soap out from the roots of her hair to the very tips.

“Don’t drown in there.”

Lena opened an eye to see Jess frowning down at her from over the basin’s edge, holding a large sponge. When Lena opened her mouth to respond, her lady shook her head and tapped a fingertip to her temple.

“You’re going to drive yourself mad if you overthink every little thing,” Jess remarked, plopping the sponge into the water with a wet _plunk_.

“I am not,” Lena countered, scowling. She lifted her wrist automatically to Jess as she sat forward, and her lady took hold of it to rub the skin of her arm with the dripping, foamy sponge. It was soft, not scratchy like the ones she used to have as a small child, and smelled of vanilla. Jess scrubbed in gentle circles up toward her shoulder. After a moment’s silence Lena added, “Overthinking, I mean. I am thinking a perfectly normal amount.”

Jess lifted an eyebrow. There was no fooling her.

But, well, Lena was stubborn.

“I’m not,” she insisted.

The water rippled and sloshed as one of the attendants dumped another cup over her shoulders. Lena stood, arms held outward, as the other girls joined Jess with sponges.

“Well, whatever capacity you’re thinking in,” Jess said, dipping the sponge again before returning to Lena’s soap-slicked ribs, “stop it. You’ve got a long day ahead of you and no sleep to count for it. Your hair’ll catch fire if you think much harder.”

Instead of feeling indignant at her lady’s harping, Lena laughed. “Perhaps that is my own brand of magic,” she said, smiling slightly when the youngest girl fumbled with her sponge and it dropped back into the tub.

New jugs of fresh rose water were brought in, and Lena stood still as they poured it over her naked frame to wash away the lather of soap and the bits of herbs that clung to her wet skin. Warmth tingled through her being and settled deep within her core, and she breathed as much of the sweet steam into her lungs as they would allow. She said nothing as the girls led her out of the water and pressed soft woven towels against her body to wick away the moisture. Within moments, Jess had her sat at the vanity, clothed in the ivory dress her lady had selected for her earlier that morning.

Lena stared into the glass mirror as Jess’s hands wove her damp hair into neat plaits. It’d taken a fair amount of time for Jess and another girl to comb through the long tangle of Lena’s dark, wet hair, and even some gold-tinted oil rubbed into the ends to smooth it all out. Lena had taken the third girl by the hands and rubbed lotion into the girl’s pruned palms as the others worked, and together the four of them chatted aimlessly until Jess was ready to twist Lena’s hair into a style of her choice. By this time, dawn painted soft silvers against the sky, drawing up pale pinks and violets over the brush of clouds lingering just above the eastern waterline. Lena had always been grateful that her quarters were as eastward as the castle allowed; her tower, attached just against the cliff of National City’s tallest peak, gave her the best view their kingdom had to offer. A world swallowed by glittering water, and the faintest hush of waves tumbling against the rocks leagues below if she listened hard enough. The sunrise itself was the most stunning display Lena had ever seen.

“You should speak with her before the meeting,” Jess said suddenly, jerking Lena from her thoughts.

She blinked up at her lady through the mirror. Alana and the other girl lounged back on the parlor’s cushioned seats in the background, nibbling at the pastries Lena had insisted they partake in. Jess met her gaze evenly in the mirror and continued to wrap the braids into a bun.

“About what?” Lena wondered, blinking. The persistence her lady had over the matter was starting to alarm her.

Jess shrugged. “For starters, it’ll be a chance for you two sort out what happened. To talk without your mother getting in the way,” she said simply, pinning the bun to the back of Lena’s head. A few loose curls cascaded down to frame Lena’s cheeks, but Jess ignored them. “Since that appears to have become a pattern. Perhaps you’ll manage to get some sleep if the queen mother doesn’t manage to spoil at least one interaction you have with her.”

“Don’t speak of that too loudly, Jess,” Lena drawled, sounding hardly concerned by it, “If the _Queen_ hears you speak so brazenly, you might be punished.”

“Oh please.” Jess snorted, cupping her hands around her finished work. Lena noticed a few of the pins had sparkling jewels inlaid into the metal, and they glimmered faintly in the low light of the slowly dragging dawn. “Lady Crane does not scare me. Nor does Queen Lillian. Besides--” she pressed gently on Lena’s shoulder, and Lena turned to look up at her directly. Jess smiled. “ _You_ are the true queen of Metropolis. God himself can strike me down if it isn’t true. I don’t give three figs what anyone else has to say about it.”

Despite the teasing smile Lena wore, tears suddenly welled in the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, you’re too much sometimes,” she said, and Jess laughed as they embraced.

“Come on then, let’s eat. Quickly. The council is after dawn, yes?” Jess took one quick glance toward the the windows and _tsked_ her tongue against her teeth. The first crest of the sun was visible now and glaring light into Lena’s chambers. Taking Lena’s hand, Jess led them into the attached parlor and picked at the foods prepared on the silver tray set over the table in the center of the room. Alana and Alyssa made space for them immediately, and Lena settled herself in the center amidst her ladies with a small exhalation of content.

“Are you going to see the Princess?” Alana asked, pausing before her her lips touched the rim of the teacup she had lifted upward.

Lena fidgeted with the piece of bread she’d taken for herself and stared down at the small bowl of broth meant to dip it in. Was she? What was she going to say? After spending all night wrapped up in her thoughts about how to approach Princess Zor-El next, she was suddenly devoid of all previous reflections on the matter. She’d assumed her next meeting with the princess would be the scheduled post-dawn stratagem.

Where other people would be with her, Lena realized, blinking. Her earlier trail of thought returned to her-- perhaps she truly _was_ afraid of confronting Princess Zor-El on her own.

As soon as the thought came rushing back, Lena said, “Yes, I am.”

The other girls didn’t appear to notice her hesitation, and giggled excitedly amongst themselves.

“I heard she’s as strong as a hundred men,” Alyssa announced.

Alana shook her head. “Stronger,” she countered.

Lena thought of last night and of the princess’s restrained, but somehow effortless, motion that sent Lady Crane practically soaring. Granted, it hadn’t been as dramatic as how the rest of the castle now whispered it to willing ears, but it had been a startling sight nonetheless. But it hadn’t filled her with fear so much as it did boundless curiosity. How strong was she, truly? Perhaps her book-- Lex’s book-- had more answers to Princess Zor-El’s mysterious and formidable powers.

“--breathe fire, like a dragon!”

“Maybe she _is_ a dragon.”

“Now, girls, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jess cut in, laughing.

Lena smiled up at them. The sunlight was growing steadily stronger; the shadows receded into the far corners of the room, and as the light began to slowly swell through the chamber, the vibrant colors of the tapestries across her walls began to saturate in rich reds and golds. She placed her food onto a small dish, uneaten.

“The sun is rising quickly,” Lena observed, standing to her feet. Jess watched her with a smile. Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, she continued, “If I’m going to get any word in with Princess Zor-El, I ought to do so now before my chance is lost.”

“Ask how Evie’s doing, will you?” Alyssa chirped over her morning bread. Her young face was a picture of innocent concern and inquisitiveness. Lena thought she looked much like Eve, with her curling blonde hair and bright, round eyes. Only Eve’s were hazel in color, mottled with moss-green and honey, while Alyssa’s were dark, earthy, and surrounded by the sea of freckles over her cheeks and forehead.

“Of course. That’s my first order of business,” Lena said, and she meant it. She hadn’t forgotten Eve at all since she’d last watched the housemaid hoisted into the air as if she weighed no more than a freshly whelped pup. Lena remembered seeing the purpled mark of a bruise over Eve’s eye, and perhaps what might have been a handprint on the poor girl’s cheek if Lena had gotten a better view of her face before Princess Zor-El ushered her from the servant’s wing. The evidence of the abuse had filled Lena with ice and the bitter flavor of disgust. They had both churned in her stomach every time the memory of Eve surfaced in lieu of dreams and slumber, and twisted within her now, tangled up with a nervousness that sprang through her gut at the prospect of facing the princess alone.

Lady Crane would be one of the many changes Lena looked forward to bringing as soon as Lillian no longer gripped the throne in her iron claws. Likely even the first.

Maggie waited outside of Lena’s chambers. Jess and the others remained behind, though it took some convincing to keep Jess from accompanying her to the guest wing. If she was going to speak with Princess Zor-El and straighten out the misunderstandings of their first encounters, she needed to do so alone. And the less people who knew that Lena would be stopping by their resident Kryptonian’s bedchambers for a personal visit, the better.

Lena was grateful Maggie hadn’t questioned her plan to speak with the other princess privately, however unconventional it was. Still, it hadn’t stopped her guard from lifting both eyebrows so high they nearly blended into the dark of her hairline.

“I assume you mean to make this quick,” Maggie said as they strode through the halls together, careful to take whatever abandoned passageways and empty corridors they could find as the growing sunlight chased them from one end of the castle to the other.

“I don’t mean to make it anything more than what it needs to be,” Lena said, though it was painfully obvious she had no idea what she meant to do or how to go about it. Showing up at Princess Zor-El’s guest chambers and knocking on the door was as far as she had for the moment. “I suppose it’ll take as long as it needs to.”

Maggie made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat that vaguely reminded Lena of her mother whenever Lillian was not particularly sold on an idea.

“Just be careful,” her guardswoman said, as they hurried over the ornate rug that led down the hall to the western guest wing. There were very few guards stationed in the corridor; only two figures stood silently outside the double doors of Princess Zor-El’s chambers, one helmet plumed in Daxam red and the other the bright, shining silver of Metropolis steel. They both stood at attention as Lena and Maggie drew close.

“Fair morning, Princess Lena,” the Metropolian knight greeted. He inclined his head to both her and Maggie, who returned the gesture. The Daxam knight remained quiet, though he, too, nodded toward the newcomers.

“Fair morning, Sir Phillip,” Lena returned, flashing him a smile. “I have business with Princess Zor-El this morn. May I pass?”

She saw bewilderment surface in his face before he blinked it away and stepped from in front of the doors. “Of course, your highness,” he answered, and his Daxamite companion said nothing. “Though she did not mention you were going to come by.”

Lena wore an easy smile, as unbothered and light as she could muster. “She wouldn’t have. I have news, is all, and felt it best to deliver it myself.”

He nodded sagely, as if he expected no less. “Of course.”

The Daxamite beside Sir Phillip turned and rapped the knuckles of his slate gauntlet against the broad, old wood of the double doors. In a baritone voice that surprised Lena, he announced, “The Crown Princess of Metropolis requests entrance.”

They waited quietly. Nothing moved beyond the door, and no voice acknowledged them back.

Maggie and Lena exchanged a glance as both knights frowned. The Daxamite lifted his fist again, and pounded once more on the wood.

One door squeaked open. Through the few inches of space, Lena caught sight of Eve’s bright eye.

“Um, excuse me, your Highness,” Eve said, blinking. The visible sliver of her face disappeared for a moment as she turned to look back inside the chambers. When she returned, Lena noted an expression of unease in the slight pinch of her mouth. “Princess Zor-El is busy for the moment. Could--” there was a small tremor to her voice, and then Eve cleared her throat. “Could you come back in a while?”

Lena’s automatic response was, _Of course, of course, I’m so sorry to have bothered you both. Please, pardon my interruption._ But she stopped herself before the words could tumble from her mouth. If she waited longer, Queen Lillian would grow suspicious if she and Princess Zor-El were both late to the council. Or if Lena did not get the chance to speak to her prior, she risked allowing her mother to drive the dagger deeper, so to speak. If Lena did not do so now, she might never have the courage to try again.

And Lena did not consider herself a timid creature.

She took the anxious energy spinning up in her stomach and squashed it down into the same iron box she kept her emotions whenever Lillian was present. With another smile, this time with the slight edge of authority to it, she said, “I’m afraid I must insist. It concerns her kin, Kal-El.”

At this, Eve frowned, but she dropped her gaze from Lena’s face and nodded. The door widened some. With a parting touch to Maggie’s arm, Lena slipped inside.

It was not as bright as her room had been; the arching windows to the west only showed the backdrop of lightening sky, and the dawnlight only touched a few of the small windows high on the domed ceiling above. The west wing had the second-highest tower in the castle, Lena’s own having stood the tallest.

Candles were still lit around the room, though they burned low. The fireplace was dark. Lena glanced around, noting the bedspread had already been tucked neatly back into place. There was a small tray of bread and broth set aside on a short armoire, neither of which had been touched that Lena could tell. What she assumed was Eve’s bed-- a small cot with a simple white sheet-- was pushed into the corner.

Lena exhaled softly and turned to face Eve. “Thank you,” she said, “I don’t mean to impose, but--”

Eve shook her head. Lena fell quiet, caught off guard by the near-black streak of bruising over Eve’s right eye socket. It trailed over the side of her face at an angle, deepening into a red gash that split the hairs of her eyebrow into two distinct halves. The upper eyelid was swollen and mauve in color; when Eve looked up at Lena, she was startled to see little swirls of blood over the whites of her eye.

“Oh, God,” Lena said, reaching for her. She brushed her fingertips gently over Eve’s face. Her own throat tightened uncomfortably, and heat burned behind her eyes. “Oh, Eve. I’m so sorry.” The images of last night flooded her again. This time, she wished Lady Crane had been thrown through the damn window instead of knocked onto her back. Princess Zor-El’s retaliation hadn’t been punishment enough, she decided.

“It’s alright,” Eve whispered, and it was then that Lena realized the rest of the chambers were eerily silent. And empty.

“No, it isn’t,” Lena said firmly, gripping Eve’s shoulders in a way that would have been reminiscent of Lillian had she not been gentle in her touch. Then, glancing around, she added, “Where’s--?”

But at that moment, a warbling sound caught her attention. She stilled, her hands cupped around the sloping curve of Eve’s shoulders. The sound quieted, then came again a moment later, keeping the same clear, crystalline note sustained before it ended with a soft, rolling _“hoo-eh.”_ As Lena listened, she was suddenly struck with the realization that it was singing-- some form of it that she didn’t recognize, as the pitch rose and fell and echoed faintly against the outer walls of the castle. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted; the notes were ghostly and sonorous, filling Lena with a sensation of tranquil light. It shifted around her, pleasant and strange at the same time. There weren’t any words that she could discern, but simple, wavering vocalizations that drew long and rang out into the open sky. An angel’s voice.

“She says it’s called _kulning_ ,” Eve offered, whispering still. She was looking toward the paned balcony doors, which were slightly ajar.

Beyond the doors, Lena realized the entire balustrade was covered in a row of doves.

She wondered if Princess Zor-El’s singing-- _kulning_ , Eve called it-- had the same effect on the birds as it did herself. The silvery notes seemed to vibrate through her, into her soul, and settle with an ethereal sort of serenity that Lena had ever only experienced in the quiet of an abandoned church hall or sunlit glade. The power of it was staggering; maybe, like her stare, a starblood’s voice was just as magical.

Lena let her hands fall from Eve’s shoulders. They stood together silently, watching the balcony and the doves clustered there. Occasionally another swooped up to unite with its brethren; the rare crow appeared, hopping along the balcony floor, and once or twice Lena saw the speckled wing of a starling come to join the flock. Part of Lena wanted to know what other animals might be attracted to the call. Was there a beast that could _not_ be tamed by such a sound?

Like a trance, Lena found herself drawn to the balcony. She took one cautious step, then another, until she suddenly found herself at the towering glass doors. With one hand, Lena eased them further open. The birds turned to watch her warily. Their beady eyes shone in the sunlight that now illuminated the entire sky, some of them blinking languidly against the glare that managed to sneak around the tower’s curve. They did not flee as she slowly moved over the stone, though the closer she drew to the bannister, the more they shuffled out of her reach or found a new perch farther away.

Outside, the sound of Princess Zor-El’s voice took on a new quality. Lena still could not see her-- she was nowhere on the balcony-- but when she sang out again, it echoed back at Lena like a chorus of otherworldly beings harmonizing across the entire stretch of Metropolis. The trees, the mountains, the sprawling canyons far in the distance-- all seemed to answer the song. It was then that she understood this song was primordial in its power; a sound so ancient that without the Kryptonians, the world would have lost one of its many wonders forever.

Lena stood dazed on the balcony for what felt like hours when the ringing tones of Princess Zor-El faded into silence. The rush of wind around the stone towers and the sigh of it raking through tree-top canopies filled the void of the song, but it still left Lena feeling strangely empty.

Without warning, something long and flaxen in color descended in front of her. The birds, then, felt it time to take their leave and burst into the surrounding air with the frantic whistle and slap of dove wings beating against the wind. There were more of them than Lena had thought, and for a few moments the world around her was obscured by a whirlwind of retreating birds and the muffled drum of their wings. Feathers cascaded down in their place, showering Princess Zor-El as she stood watching Lena from the end of the balcony. The dress she wore was very simple; no accessory or detail woven into the fabric, which fitted comfortably to her chest and waist before the rest flowed in a pale gold drape around her hips and legs. Her hair fell similarly over her shoulders in wind-swept waves. There was a small pendant hanging at her collarbone from a thin silver chain and set with a teardrop of purple stone.

A long moment of quiet passed between them.

“It is meant for calling up the sun,” the princess said suddenly, startling Lena. She was carefully blank of emotion, from what Lena could see, though she had the distinct feeling that the princess was appraising her somehow with those vibrant cornflower eyes of hers. When Lena did not immediately answer, she added, “Our priests were usually in charge of singing the praise every morning to call Him forth. It is part of the Dawning ritual every day.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lena said, feeling the word wholly inadequate for what she had just witnessed.

The compliment tugged a faint smile to the curve of Princess Zor-El’s mouth. She moved closer to Lena, and the fluidity of the motion made her almost appear to float over the balcony. When she stopped a pace away, there was a small flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as she took in a deep breath.

“I’m...sorry for my behavior last night,” she said, in a quiet voice that Lena wouldn’t have expected from the princess. It was mild, demure even, and unlike the fierce stoicism that Lena had come to associate with her thus far. She looked down at her hands, which she had brought in front of herself, one thumb tracing over her knuckles in what was a common gesture of apologetic embarrassment. “It is not my place to punish your people.”

Lena blinked away the astonishment in her expression. “Believe me, she deserved it,” Lena said, then quickly added, “Lady Crane, I mean. Not Eve.”

“Even still,” Princess Zor-El said, inclining her head slightly in agreement, “I am a guest, and certainly not one that needs any more marks against her. I hope this does not sully our plans for an alliance.”

It took Lena a moment, but then she laughed, bright and airy. At the other princess’s surprised, questioning look, she explained, “Apologies, your Highness. But that is exactly what I meant to ask of _you_ this morning.”

“I see,” the princess answered, reigning back the slip of emotion she’d borne to Lena until her countenance was carefully controlled again. It was not cold, or angry like yesterday, but not warm, either. “Then you do not bring news of my cousin?” She must have read the confusion in Lena’s eyes, for a moment later she clarified, “Kal-El.”

Realization dawned on Lena immediately, though it was followed quickly by amazement. “I’m afraid not,” she started, and this time it was her turn to turn her gaze away in embarrassment. So Kal-El was her cousin. It was information that promptly drew her interest, considering Kal had never mentioned his ties to Kryptonian royalty before. Though Lena wondered at it, she would have to keep her questioning for a later time, when her company might be more open to sharing such details about her life. When she looked back up at Princess Zor-El, she was relieved to find no sign of judgement or irritation in the bright depths of her gaze. But now that she had the words ready to explain, they sounded silly and childish in her mind. Lena cleared her throat lightly. “I-- I wanted to be sure to speak to you before the council this morning,” she said, and as if her thoughts betrayed her, Lena’s gaze fell to the necklace Princess Zor-El wore. This close, Lena could see veins of translucent crystal in the dusk-purple stone that lay against her chest.

“You want to to discuss the kryptonite,” Princess Zor-El said, though her tone did not suggest any reaction to the topic. It was a simple statement, cutting through Lena’s hesitation.

“Among other things.” Lena took in a breath. “But yes, the kryptonite.”

Thankfully, this didn’t appear to bother Princess Zor-El. She nodded, then turned and gestured for Lena to follow her to the balustrade. There was a small stone bench pushed up against the far side, and though it had been blanketed in doves mere moments ago, there was no evidence of the birds beyond the occasional down feather clinging to its rough surface. When she sat, Lena took the space on the other end for herself.

Princess Zor-El regarded Lena for a brief moment before tilting her head slightly to the side. The wind whipped a small piece of gold hair across her mouth, and as she went to pull it away, she questioned, “So? What explanation do you have for wearing poison magic?”

 _Not a good one_ , Lena thought to herself, resisting the urge to fidget with her hands in her lap. Instead, she spread them neatly over her dress and exhaled. “Do you know of what my-- of what Prince Alexander did during the time he was to be crowned King?” she asked, closing her eyes to envision the few memories she had of it. There were several, but it had been a chaotic time and they blended together like pieces of dreams sewn haphazardly together. What she remembered most was her brother, crazed and screaming as his blonde hair fell in clumps from his scalp. The wild, inhuman look in his wide eyes as he bared his teeth and lunged for her, only to be wrenched to the floor and restrained by guards. Most of all, the laughter-- the shrieking laugh that had echoed in her ears long after he’d been dragged away.

When she opened her eyes again, Princess Zor-El was still watching her. There was something new in her gaze this time, but it was guarded, and for a moment Lena wasn’t sure if it was distrust or curiosity lingering just beneath the surface of the princess’s expression.

“Prince Alexander,” she stated, “your brother.”

Lena nodded.

“I know of it,” was the answer. Guarded, just like her eyes.

Lena twisted to glance over her shoulder. A shaft of sunlight fell across her vision and she squinted. It was past dawn, but now, sitting before the Princess, Lena found she no longer felt the hurry to make the council on time. Queen Lillian could wait. She turned back around and cleared her throat once more.

“My brother was not always a madman,” Lena said, settling her gaze on the other princess as an odd sort of calm fell through her. Speaking of Lex’s misdeeds never had that sort of effect on her before-- quite the opposite, usually-- but now it was like she spoke of something else entirely, as if she were sharing the account of a forefather long dead and nearly forgotten, and not of the man who had once been a boy that called her family and treated her as such when they were children. “He was not always cruel and consumed by hatred. There was a time that I would say he was even kind and thoughtful.” Lena paused, recalling the blur of such memories, before forcing them down into that familiar iron box where they couldn’t dredge up the acidic pain that accompanied them. “Lex was known for his brilliance. He found ways to make our armor withstand more blows and our weapons cut deeper. He discovered better herbs for stronger medicine and created new, intricate strategies for our soldiers in war.”

“War?” Princess Zor-El asked.

For a moment, Lena didn’t understand what the question was. But then she nodded again. “Yes, war. We might not have been in the midst of one or even seen one on the horizon, but war is an element of life that we cannot escape,” Lena explained. “So when it inevitably comes for us, we should be prepared. The less my people have to suffer through one, the better.”

Princess Zor-El said nothing, so she continued,

“Lex was not without his vices. He was arrogant, yes. Harsh sometimes when he could have been gentle. But he was not hated, and he was far from being a tyrant.” The wind carried with it a whiff of smoke, and in the back of her mind she knew it to be the smell of the forge as it was worked somewhere far below. “Some years ago, Kal-El-- your cousin-- showed himself to us when some of our army were moving to a new outpost and were attacked by bandits. This was a time where there was little magic to be found within our borders--” she saw a small change in the princess’s expression, and amended, “--at least that was known to the rest of us, and Kal-El’s sudden emergence was a difficult thing for many to accept, especially Lex. He was a squire alongside my brother, after all. They had been close friends.”

This drew a reaction from Princess Zor-El. She visibly reeled back, eyes widening.

That was curious to Lena. “You didn’t know?”

“No.” The word sounded forced, like an unpleasant admission. “Kal never told me.”

Lena hummed slightly, wondering how much the princess truly knew, then, of the situation. “They grew up together,” she said, slightly more gentle than before. “As pages and squires do when they train to be knights. Lex had wanted to be a hero, but Kal-El was always the champion of his peers, besting my brother at every turn. I think that planted the first seed of jealousy in Lex-- to see that his friend would always be better than him at something.”

“Jealousy is a dark beast,” Princess Zor-El said, and her eyes were slightly narrowed. “But not an excuse for madness.”

“No, it isn’t,” Lena agreed, though she frowned. “But perhaps just a symptom of it.” She turned from the princess for a moment, looking thoughtfully out at the stretch of forest that lined the earth between National City and the far western mountains in a thick carpet of pine. “Knowing that Kal-El was magical, nonetheless one of the lost Kryptonians, seemed to turn my country inside out overnight. The best knight among us, _magic_? It was preposterous to think. But as soon as he revealed it, he did not hide it. His incredible strength, his speed-- his ability to fly. It terrified everyone.”

Princess Zor-El scoffed.

Lena looked at her again. “Everyone that had the power to do something about it, at least.”

“Magic is not evil,” the princess said, and Lena could hear the undercurrent of frustration begin to build in her words.

“Perhaps it isn’t,” Lena said, shrugging lightly. “But fear is a powerful tool, and magic itself inspires plenty of it in a people who were long taught it to be something wicked and wrong. I think it is perfectly natural to be scared of someone who has the power to throw a person across the room by barely lifting a finger.”

The pointed words struck harder than she meant. Princess Zor-El stiffened slightly, and Lena caught a brief scowl before the princess managed to become impassive again.

“My brother and I were taught from a young age that magic was to be abhorred, that it was dangerous. Before Kal-El, we only knew it to bring destruction and panic to our people,” Lena started again, sighing. “That stayed with Lex through his adult life. When Kal-El showed himself, Lex felt it was a betrayal of his trust and love. He became obsessed with it. The rage, the jealousy of it-- I think, perhaps, my brother thought in his mind that Kal-El was unworthy of that much power. I don’t know why. Perhaps because he believed your cousin to be a farm boy with no title to his name.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how, but he became different. He sought out pieces of kryptonite and...tampered with them. I’m not sure what he did.”

There was a small pause, and then the princess asked, “Not you?”

Lena blinked, uncertain of what she meant. “Me?”

Princess Zor-El gave a small, vague wave of her hand. “You said this fear of magic stayed with him through his life. But not you?”

The question settled in Lena like a weight. _Was_ she afraid? It was a question she found herself drawn to over and over, no matter how often she shied from the answer. She was silent for a moment, watching the other woman watch her. She wondered if her emotions were as easily readable as they felt. Or if perhaps, in the repertoire of endless powers the Kryptonians seemed to have, Princess Zor-El could simply glean her thoughts directly from her mind.

“I don’t know,” Lena said quietly. “I am...cautious of it. I don’t know much about magic. But I knew your cousin a little. He seemed like a good man, regardless of what abilities he had. And if magic does not make the man evil, then perhaps it isn’t so terrible after all.”

This appeared to appease the princess somewhat. She relaxed slightly against the balustrade, looking away from Lena to gaze out at the forest. Now she appeared pensive, as if considering something of great interest. “So then why did you wear the medallion when I met with you and the Queen?” she asked, though she did not look back over at Lena.

She’d almost forgotten her story was not quite complete. “The kryptonite that my brother had-- he tried to use it somehow. Tried to learn its secrets as to how it could hurt a Kryptonian when nothing else did. Whatever he did with the starbane, it changed him. He became irritable, violent, and paranoid. So paranoid. The others-- my family-- did not see it as I did,” Lena said, ignoring the princess’s question for the moment. There was a new desire smoldering within her-- a need to explain, to make Princess Zor-El understand. A small part of herself longed to be excused from the blame of it all, to be forgiven when she had no part in it, but even then Lena knew she shouldered the burden of her family’s legacy as its crown princess and could not be exempt from its condemnation. “With Kal-El open about his magic, they feared others would attempt to do the same, or try to use magic against us if we became complacent in allowing them in our country. There were battles, mostly of people protecting themselves and their loved ones from unjust accusations. But many lives were lost due to my brother’s obsession with purging magic from Metropolis.”

“I know this already,” Princess Zor-El firmly. She did not want to hear what else Prince Alexander was responsible for, that much was clear.

Lena bit at her lip. “My mother-- Queen Lillian-- was my brother’s greatest supporter. But when he was imprisoned by the Court, she drew into herself. She did not continue his efforts to eradicate magic from our boundaries any more than what had been before Lex would be King. I thought, perhaps after so long…” Lexa exhaled, loudly this time, a show of her mounting regret.

“You’ve still not answered my question.”

A small, rueful smile touched Lena’s mouth before she tipped her head toward the princess respectfully. “Of course. I’m sorry for straying off track.” Her gaze fell again to the pendant at Princess Zor-El’s chest, then, “I have never seen orange starbane before. I refused to go near any of it after what happened to my brother. My mother-- after I welcomed you to our halls, she met with me in the study. Said the medallion was a gift from my brother. I thought, maybe it was simply her way of showing me...acceptance, somehow. Her claim on me as kin. I suppose now that I think of it, it was.”

There was a touch of struggle in Princess Zor-El’s gaze. “What does that mean for you, then?” Her voice was hard, teetering just on the edge of that anger Lena had witnessed last night, and for a moment Lena felt fear climbing its way through her chest, as if the entire effort to rectify their unstable alliance would crash and burn around her with whatever she said next.

“I didn’t know,” Lena blurted out. Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her ivory dress. However childish and unsatisfactory of an answer it was, it was the truth, and it gripped Lena with an almost feverish need to prove herself innocent. The words had simply tumbled out of her, as if beckoned forth by the last Kryptonian herself. “The medallion, I didn’t know. And with Siobhan, and Eve, I had no idea--”

A sigh, then, cut off whatever ramblings Lena might have given into. Princess Zor-El touched her fingertips to her forehead and rubbed at a small scar that Lena spied there.

“I’m sorry,” the princess said. “Please forgive me.” She looked tired suddenly, as if some of the sunlight-- or starlight, Lena mused-- within her had somehow dimmed.

Confusion filtered through the tick of fear that had latched into her. “For what?”

When Princess Zor-El regarded her, it was with a soft look of apology. “For that,” she

said, nodding toward Lena. “For frightening you.”

Lena did not think. She’d long been trapped in her own thoughts, but now, staring at the weary face of her guest, the thoughts melted into instinct. The princess’s forearm rested against her knee, which nearly touched Lena’s own in its proximity, and barely a handful of seconds passed before Lena reached and laid her palm against the smooth, light tan of Princess Zor-El’s wrist. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. Lena held her hand there with gentle reassurance. For a moment she expected Princess Zor-El to pull away, but the woman remained motionless.

“I am not afraid of you,” she said simply, meeting the princess’s bright gaze in an easy calm. Whatever fear she felt was gone; swept away by the wind that brushed through her damp curls. The revelation of it hadn’t registered until the words themselves had already escaped her, but even then, she was not wholly surprised. “I fear for my people, mostly. Something is wrong in the world. I am to be crowned soon, and then only I am responsible for what follows. I fear that even now, I stumble too much and will make a mess of it all before I have the chance to call myself Queen.”

There was silence for some time. Lena felt the eyes of the Kryptonian on her, less physically than it was like the princess could truly see through her skin and to the nervous, small thing that was her soul. Bared and stripped of all defense.

Then, miraculously, a smile spread slowly over Princess Zor-El until it flushed away all traces of the previous doubt Lena had caught there. “You could have simply told me that you didn’t know,” she said, and in the brightening of her smile Lena felt something warm and shining in herself rise with it. “Before all this. I would have believed you.”

“Would you?” Lena questioned, failing to keep the incredulity from lacing her tone.

“Yes.” The certainty, the pure, faithful conviction of it, astounded Lena.

“Why?”

The princess tilted her head again, this time not out of curiosity but a quirk that made Lena wonder what kind of person truly lurked under the surface of the stoic mask she wore. “I can tell when someone is lying to me,” she said, smiling still, though it was softer now.

“Then we have more in common than I thought,” Lena returned, laughing slightly. She took her hand back from the other woman’s arm and let it lay empty in her lap.

“Your medallion--” the princess started, but Lena shook her head.

“Don’t worry,” she assured her, “As soon as I knew what it was for, I locked it away. It should be of no harm to you here.”

“And the rest of it?”

Lena was silent, caught off guard. She had not thought if her mother had any more stowed away, and now that the idea was planted in her, it rolled uncomfortably in her stomach. “I will find it, if there is any,” she said, “and be rid of it. My mother may try another tactic to force us against each other, but I do not think she would outright attack you. Not when you are a guest here. But I will do my best to make sure you remain safe within these walls. I swear it.”

Princess Zor-El nodded. An understanding had forged between them here, even if Lena did not say all the words she meant to-- somehow, they were still conveyed, and she saw it in the twinkle of blue that the princess regarded her with.

They shared a smile for a time. There was no more tension coiling within Lena now; only a peculiar lightness in her chest that wasn’t familiar, but pleasant and welcome nonetheless.

The furious twitter of a songbird drew their attention, and together they watched a pair of speckle-throated thrushes duck and dive over the balcony to the far side of the guest tower.

“I suppose we should join the others for the meeting,” Princess Zor-El commented, but she made no move to rise from the bench.

Lena had nearly forgotten about that, too. She remained in her seat for a few heartbeats more, before sighing softly and nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose we should.” Looking back to the other princess, she was glad to see that the cautious guard of her expression was lax, and that there was even something of a gentle warmth to her demeanor. “So, your Highness, would you say that our alliance remains?”

The smile widened to a sunny grin. It wrinkled in the corner of her eyes, and it was like the sunshine within her had returned at full-force. When Lena rose, likewise did Princess Zor-El, and Lena was struck again with the notion that this woman embodied everything about an angel that texts and paintings attempted to illustrate. More so, if Lena had to argue the point.

“I would say so,” the princess said.

The words nestled deep into Lena, bringing with them a wave of relief. “I am glad to hear it,” Lena said, stepping for the balcony doors. But before she was even a half step away, she felt a warm hand close around her elbow and hold her in place. It was a gentle grip, but the strength was impossible to ignore; it was like the fingers themselves had been welded out of steel.

“Hold on--” the princess was saying, and as Lena turned to face her again, she found that Princess Zor-El was directly behind her. So close, in fact, that Lena could have pressed against the other woman’s chest, had Princess Zor-El been two inches closer. Lena stilled, and then followed the sight of the princess’s hand reaching for her face.

She pulled a feather from somewhere in Lena’s dark curls. “It seems our friends left you a parting gift,” Princess Zor-El chuckled, her teeth flashing white in her smile again. She appeared unbothered by their proximity, and in the very back of Lena’s mind, she discovered that she, too, didn’t mind it much at all.

Lena found herself returning the smile. Without thinking, she took the feather from between Princess Zor-El’s lightly pinched fingers. “Then I shall cherish it always,” she announced, and this drew a laugh in unison from the both of them.

 

Inside, Eve sat waiting patiently on the cushions. Her expression lit up at the sight of them enter the chambers together. Even with the slash of bruising over her face, she still managed to appear as bubbling and eager as ever.

“That was marvelous,” Eve said as soon as they passed into the parlor. “I’ve never heard any like that before!”

Princess Zor-El smiled, and Lena was surprised to see a hint of sheepishness thread through it. “I’m glad you could enjoy it,” she said, and Eve nodded her enthusiasm.

“You said it was for calling up the sun,” Lena interjected, recalling the first few pieces of conversation they shared outside. It felt like the entire discussion had spanned hours; the swell of anxiety had left her drained of the adrenaline that fueled her bravado that morning. Had she really only listened to the Kryptonian sing only a quarter of an hour ago? “Kulm... _Kulning_?”

The princess nodded once. “Yes, kulning. As I said, it is typically reserved for priests, but…”

The implication was not lost, and neither Eve nor Lena required a verbal reminder of just why no priests were available to take up the duty.

“It affected the birds,” Lena observed, lending a glance toward the balcony again as if the flock might have suddenly returned again. “Is it…” she paused, uncertain if the question was appropriate.

“Magic?” the princess supplied, and Lena smiled a confirmation. There was a short silence, and then, “To be honest, I don’t know. It has always been part of my people. Something we have always done. It is an ancient call, once used by the First Tribes to gather their animals from all reaches of our land. A herding call, meant for Rao, to bring him home. Whether it is magic or simply a skill we have used from the beginning of time is something I don’t have the answer to.”

Lena did not ask about Rao; she knew the Red Sunbeast from the few texts of myth and legend that spoke of the Kryptonians. A song that could summon all beasts from across the land had never been written of, though. She had a feeling she would be learning much about Krypton during the princess’s stay, and the prospect excited her.

“I think it’s magic,” Eve said, looking thoughtful. “Certainly felt like it. I don’t know anything _not_ magic that makes a sound like that.”

Lena was inclined to agree, but an idea came to her and she frowned. If it felt so strongly of magic, even if it truly wasn’t, she imagined there would be some folk who found it more unsettling than wondrous. Especially if all of the livestock began to suddenly migrate toward the castle. She could think of number of people who might believe it a spell or a curse, her mother among them.

Princess Zor-El must have guessed her thoughts from her expression. Something, Lena mused, she was becoming quite apt at doing. “I do not want to cause a panic,” she said, her own smile falling. “I know this country has a...strong opinion about magic--”

“It is no matter,” Lena interrupted with a single shake of her head. “Unless someone can show me your song brings harm to them, you are within your right to continue. I will see to it.”

A short, contemplative hum rose from the princess as her smile returned. “Perhaps Mon-El was wrong about you, after all,” she said, but when Lena lifted an eyebrow in question, the princess merely grinned at her. She lifted a hand toward the doors. “We should be on our way to the council, lest I anger the Queen further. I will meet you in the study.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest, but then smiled and made her way to the double doors. Maggie would be on the other side of them, wondering what was taking so long; it surprised Lena slightly that she hadn’t already barged inside and demanded Lena’s haste.

Before Eve could open the door, though, Lena lifted a hand and turned to face Princess Zor-El once more.

“Princess,” she addressed quietly, and her tone must have carried enough gravity to it, for the princess’s smile became serious and intent. Lena side glanced to where Eve stood beyond her peripheral, and then fixed her gaze with Princess Zor-El’s. “Should something like that happen again, I permit you to act as you see fit. You and I share the same opinion on the matter.”

The princess did not answer, save to lift her chin and give a small nod of acknowledgement. There was a curious look to her eye, as if Lena had suddenly uprooted some belief of hers and tossed it into her face.

Lena did not dwell on it. The sudden rush of purpose she had at giving her command left her reeling as she turned and left the guest wing, wondering what else she might find herself suddenly capable of now that the Kryptonian’s presence had somehow infused a strength of its own into her. The anxiety Lena normally felt about her looming rule was drowning beneath this new spring of courage spouting up through her, golden and hot with hope.

Most of all, she wondered if Princess Zor-El felt the same.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, sorry this is so late. I didn't take much time to proof read through it, so if you notice any errors, please let me know (especially anything that sounds conflicting. Sometimes I change my mind and don't catch it, lol).

Kara stared at the double doors long after Princess Lena took her leave.

It was interesting, how unsure of...well, everything Kara felt right then. Everytime she thought she had something about this arrangement pinned down-- or just about Princess Lena herself-- something else came along and plucked out whatever judgement Kara had felt fit to make of it. Everything she learned challenged whatever came before. She had felt close to unraveling the mystery of Lena Luthor, of figuring what kind of person she was and her motivations. Her intentions. But now Kara felt as though she’d been abruptly forced back to square one to start all over again. Were human beings always this complicated? Lena was starting to give Kara emotional whiplash, and it was as confusing to deal with as it was infuriating.

Not that Kara was currently infuriated-- more like obnoxiously mystified-- but she was certainly not pleased with how her impressions of Princess Lena kept getting turned onto their head, over and over again.

Who _was_ she?

“Ah-- Princess?”

The meek voice of her new lady gave Kara a start, and she blinked away from the doors to look over at Eve. Though it wasn’t any easier to see the bruising on the girl’s face than it was last night, Kara found she was better at hiding the anger that flushed her at the sight as the morning progressed. The guilt stayed with her, squeezing at her insides every time she saw the mottled bruises across Eve’s eye or the pricks of blood over her sclera.

“My apologies,” Kara said, turning from the doors. She exhaled softly and looked down at the dress she wore. The council had already started, if the faint, tinny din of the bells on the far side of the castle was any indication. Her Dawning dress was unfortunately not the work of a skilled Kryptonian seamstress, but the woman from Daxam had come close enough to the description Kara provided. It was perfectly simple, but elegant enough that Kara could easily repurpose it for any occasion just short of a royal ball. The color often reminded her of her mother’s champagne stallion, Kelex. It was not unlike the dress she had worn at her aging ceremony, when she’d first sang the Calling of Rao in the crystal halls of Kandor on her twelfth birthday, except for the fact that it was not adorned with the crimson emblem of her royal House nor made of Kryptonian silk.

That had been the day she was named next in line for the throne after her uncle Jor-El-- Kal hadn’t even been born yet. There was a sharp lurch in her heart at the memories, and Kara held back the bitter sigh that threatened to escape her. That had been years ago, though it felt more like a lifetime. Glancing back up at Eve, she offered the girl a small smile and gestured at the dress. “What do you think? Should I go as I am, or change?”

Eve glanced toward the white armor on the rack when Kara nodded toward it. The sunlight hit its pale surface, highlighting the silvery iridescence of nacre that appeared to compose the metal. Like someone had carved a pearl into armor plating, Kara mused, though it was far more formidable than a simple oyster shell. One of the very few remaining relics of her lost family and country, brought to life by the hands of women long-lived and skilled beyond compare in a city thankfully impossible to reach without magic.   

“Perhaps-- perhaps just the dress, my lady,” Eve said hesitantly. She met Kara’s gaze for a brief moment before instinctively dropping it to the floor. A split second later, Eve’s brow furrowed and she looked back up, this time keeping her eyes steady on Kara’s. The stark contrast of the dark bruise and her pale skin made Kara’s heart hurt.

Still, Kara smiled again. It had only been a single night, but she could tell Eve was improving quickly with her tendency to slip back into her servant behavior. There even might have been some attitude lurking in there, if Kara was careful enough to pry for one. The abuse she’d sustained hadn’t broken her spirit afterall.

Eve set her mouth more firmly and added, “You look formidable in your armor, but I do not think this council requires...intimidation.” A pause, then, “Or at least, not a lot of it. The people you meet today might be more receptive if you don’t look ready to smite them on the spot.”  

A bright laugh escaped Kara. It startled Eve, but then the girl smiled back when Kara said, “That is a good point, Eve. Thank you.”

The Dawning dress would have to do. Kara did not have any other dresses; something she noted to herself to rectify as soon as possible. The trunk at the foot of her bed was full of military uniforms and suits that looked near identical to ones Mon-El wore, and while practical in some situations (such as slipping out of Daxam from under Queen Rhea’s nose), she did not feel they would suit her in the image of a princess in the long run. Not when Metropolis’s own princess wore nothing else but dresses, and looked all the better for it. Though, she supposed, that should not prevent her from wearing suits as she pleased anyway-- any reason to upend the expectations of the Metropolian council were good enough for her.

Eve took the ivory comb from Kara’s vanity and brushed through the curls that had been swept every which way by the wind outside. As she worked, Kara found herself amused with the thought that she was foregoing an outfit similar to Mon-El’s in favor of one that resembled the pale dress Princess Lena had worn into her chambers that morning. At least Lena’s dress was more becoming of a princess; the silver filigree embossed around her cinched waist and the matching design that trailed upward from the bottom of the skirt were most definitely produced by a master craftsman and tailored perfectly to Lena’s figure. It was meant for royalty-- fit for a princess. The Daxamite seamstress that recreated her own Dawning dress was plenty talented, but Kara knew enough about embroidery to recognize the highest caliber of expertise in comparison. Or even the touch of magic, for Lena’s ensemble looked nothing less.

“Remind me to discuss with you a few matters of my finances when we return,” Kara said as she slipped on the brown calfskin shoes Eve handed her. They were not pretty embroidered shoes like what she assumed Lena wore or the golden straps of Kryptonian sandals, so they were thankfully hidden beneath the flowing folds of her skirt even as she walked. They were comfortable, at least. “I will be needing a few things during my stay.”

Eve nodded in acknowledgement and led Kara to the doors again. For a moment, the girl paused, and Kara could feel her immediate desire to move for the servant’s exit. But then the moment passed, and Eve kept her arm at Kara’s elbow as they left the chambers together.

The council took place in the same private study that Kara had entered the first day-- the one where she had encountered Princess Lena wearing a medallion of orange kryptonite. Looking to the Princess now, Kara gave her a cursory once-over to check that the medallion had not made a return. Not that she felt it entirely necessary, given she believed Lena was telling her the truth earlier, but the reminder of the dark, stuffy room had made her skin tingle in memory of the deathstone. The feeling of it leeching away her strength, her power, was not a sensation she would easily forget. Thankfully, Lena wore nothing more than what she visited Kara in a mere half hour prior, and the tension she felt from entering the study promptly dissipated.

Eve, however, was a jumble of nerves and clutched to Kara’s arm like a vice.

“Fair morning, Princess,” Mon-El said, flashing them both a smile. “And Lady Eve.”

“Fair morning,” Kara returned. Eve stuttered her response shortly after. Her heartbeat fluttered in Kara’s ears like a rabbit’s, nearly drowning out the gentle thrum of the others who occupied the study.

Queen Lillian stood at the back of the round table, still glowering over at Kara with the same distaste from yesterday. There was no reaction to the sight of the battered girl that once belonged to her as a housemaid; in fact, Lillian barely appeared to register Eve’s presence and paid her no heed. She wore a green dress today, this one with long, velvet sleeves that would have draped to the floor if she’d let her arms down at her sides. The candlelight from the chandelier above caught on the pearls nestled in the intricate swirls of braids that kept her hair up and pinned securely to her head. A simple diadem-- unlike the crown Kara saw at the royal entry-- sat over her brow, twinkling in the dim light with a row of small crystals across the silver metal. A teardrop of diamond hung from the center and rested just between Lillian’s eyebrows. A matching pair of earrings dangled from both ears. Kara gathered that Lillian must have been a stunning beauty in her youth, and some of that fierce poise still remained, though it was masked beneath a layer of poorly concealed pride and time-weathered skin pulled gaunt over thin cheekbones.

There were other people in the study this time as well, and they all stood on the queen’s side of the room. Among them was Alex, though she clung more to the shadows of the wall than stand close to Queen Lillian. There were three other men, or so Kara assumed, given the taller of the three was outfitted in a full suit of armor with the visor of the helmet drawn down over the face. It was too dark in the room to make out any detail other than the shine of his eyes through the single slit in the visor. One of the three she did recognize, however, as the stablehand Master Schott. The young man grinned at her when he caught her gaze.

None of them took a seat at the table; everyone stood around its curve and just beneath the halo of soft, flickering chandelier light, the chairs untouched where they sat flush against the table’s wooden edge.

Kara could tell Lillian was not pleased with her tardiness once again, but this time the queen refrained from commenting on it. Instead, Lillian clasped her hands together and gave a stiff, barely perceptible nod toward Kara and said, “We have much to discuss today. I assume you are aware of the coronation in three week’s time?”

It must have pained the queen to speak of it, for Kara caught the pinched expression in the shadows of the study and the strain of Lillian’s voice as she forced the words from her mouth. As much as Kara felt unsurprised to note it, she still thought it strange for the woman to be so visibly displeased at the idea of her daughter’s approaching coronation. Were parents not usually thrilled for the succession of their children? Kara had to remind herself, again, of the odd and trivial customs Metropolis seemed so keen to cling to. Lena was not of Lillian’s blood, so perhaps it was natural--in this kingdom-- for the queen to be so resistant to the change.

“Prince Mon-El mentioned it to me during our journey, yes,” Kara answered. She kept her gaze on the queen, though she could feel Lena’s stare settle on her for a long moment. Eve shuffled quietly beside her. Just faintly, she could make out the gentle pulse of Lena’s heart, strong and metered at a controlled pace-- very unlike the erratic drum of Eve’s. Quietly, Kara slipped her hand over her lady’s clenched knuckles and gave them a reassuring pat.

Lillian’s attention turned to Mon-El, whose smile had not waned since Kara arrived. “Prince Mon-El, I am of the understanding that you have brought a company of your own soldiers to Metropolis,” she said. Her hand swept toward the three figures standing at her back. The man without the helmet stepped forward; his skin was dark, only a few shades more than the tight curls of hair shaved close to his head. In the shadows of the study, Kara thought his ears appeared pointed. He wore black leather armor much like Alex did, with a symbol etched just over his heart that Kara had only ever seen her sister wear: the bust of a bird, possibly an eagle or hawk, overlaid on an upside-down triangle and two small stars etched into the center. “This is Sir Hank Henshaw, our commanding General for the Order of Deo.”

At his introduction, Sir Henshaw dipped himself toward Mon-El and Kara, a fist against his chest piece. “Well met, Prince Mon-El. Princess Zor-El,” he said. The rough quality of his voice surprised Kara, though she simply returned the greeting by an incline of her head. There was something about this man that struck Kara as interesting, almost _familiar_ , and she made it a point to herself to speak to him privately when the chance allowed. Or to question her sister very, very thoroughly.

“Well met,” Mon-El replied, looking back to Queen Lillian.

“The Order of Deo are knights of secrecy,” she continued. “They are trained--”

“--to hunt magic and fairfolk,” Kara cut in calmly. She met the queen’s stare with a steady indifference, for this was of no surprise to her. Her sister had not been forthcoming about the fact when they were younger, and while it had been a source of contention between them for some time years ago, there was little Alex could keep from Kara now. Kara was intimately aware of the Order and the exact nature of their purpose.

The silence that followed Kara grew taut with suspense. Mon-El turned to look between her and the queen, and suddenly Kara had the distinct impression that nearly every person in that room--aside from her courty lady and her sister-- expected a much different reaction from the Princess of Krypton to the revelation of the Order other than the cool, nonplussed composure that she kept. Eve’s grip would have numbed any other arm, but Kara hardly noticed under the intense stares of the other occupants. The young man, Master Schott, moved closer to the fully suited knight.

“ _The Knights of God_ ,” Kara recited. She leaned forward and placed her palms down on the surface of the table, still keeping the queen’s gaze without wavering. Eve let go of Kara’s elbow with a faintly audible squeak. “Men and women of the highest holy order to _‘purge the earth of its sins_.’ Is that not the truth?”

Queen Lillian pursed her mouth, then smiled, though it was not friendly. “I see there is no need to waste my time with explanation,” she said. “You knew what kind of kingdom this was when you came. You know our history, our laws. I expect you’ll behave properly if you plan to keep this truce.”

Kara felt her hand twitch against the table, but a flicker of movement beyond Queen Lillian’s shoulder drew just enough of her attention to perceive the brief warning shake of her sister’s head. Kara straightened and returned the humorless smile to Lillian. “You’ll have nothing but utmost cooperation from me, your Majesty,” she answered, though from the narrowed slant of the queen’s glare, there was no doubt that Kara’s silent challenge had not gone unnoticed.

Eve immediately reattached to Kara’s arm.

Instead of entertaining the mounting hostility, Queen Lillian turned back to Mon-El. “Sir Henshaw will be responsible for seeing to your soldiers’ training,” she said, and the man in question nodded his head.

Mon-El frowned. “My men are plenty well trained,” he said, “Daxam sees its fair share of war-- against humans and non alike.” Kara did not miss the glance he sent her way, but it meant nothing to her. Daxam and Krypton had been at odds--and full out war-- for hundreds of years. This, too, was nothing new. She did find the queen’s arrogance of it almost amusing, though. It had been barely half a century since Krypton’s death, and already the legendary history between her homeland and Daxam was beginning to ebb into distant memory. If anyone knew the struggles of fighting a magical adversary, it was Daxamites.

Kara tried not to make a face at the thought. Praising the efforts of her rival kingdom was certainly not a stance she ever imagined herself taking. On the other hand, Daxam _was_ a kingdom known for its extravagant parties and endless festivities. With Krypton dead, Daxam had more time to celebrate and indulge themselves on whatever riches and luxuries they so desired. Kara couldn’t necessary blame anyone else for the assumption that was all Daxam knew.

To Kara’s surprise, it was Princess Lena who spoke next.

“I assure you, Prince Mon-El,” Lena started, moving closer to the table to intercept the uncomfortable silence that was beginning to stifle the room. “This is not meant against you or your kingdom’s ability to fight a war. We couldn’t be more pleased with the soldiers you’ve brought to aid this endeavor. Sir Henshaw’s involvement is meant as a precaution for us. The Knights of Deo have rather...specific methods, and we would prefer that our efforts against the shadowbeasts remain consistent. Our experience against this enemy will give us an advantage, but not much of one. We must be unified and work together, not apart.”

“I see.” Mon-El looked thoughtful, then slowly nodded his head. “Perhaps, then, there are some methods my people can teach yours in return.”

Lena smiled. Farther away, Queen Lillian’s mouth drew into a thinner line. “I would welcome any new expertise your men can provide,” the princess said. She deferred back to Sir Henshaw with a lift of her hand. “Our General has much experience against inhuman creatures, including the shadowbeasts themselves. Sir Henshaw?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled long and low. “These creatures are not much like anything I’ve come across,” he said, and again, Kara wondered at why the growl in his voice evoked such a strong familiarity within her. No one specific came to mind, but she could not shake the feeling that she had met this man at least once before. Somewhere, somehow. “They’re powerful, fast, and endlessly bloodthirsty.”

“Sounds like most of the creatures we’ve faced,” Mon-El remarked with a small smile.

“With all due respect, your Highness, they are nothing like what you may have faced,” Henshaw said, and for a moment Kara couldn’t tell if the man was actually annoyed or if that was simply the nature of his tone, “or else you would not be here to speak of it.”

“You think we could not handle a fight against a shadowbeast?” The offense in the prince’s response would have been endearing, had he not sounded so woefully naive.

Sir Henshaw merely looked at Mon-El and said, “No.”

“Our armor--” Mon-El began heatedly, but Lena interrupted him.

“Armor means nothing when a shadowbeast can move freely through it,” she said

simply. From the corner of Kara’s gaze, she saw Sir Henshaw give a solemn nod of his head.

The Prince brushed her off with a small wave of his hand. “Perhaps through Metropolian steel, but yours is not made of starforged iron,” he insisted, turning back to face Henshaw and the queen. “My people have the best armor in the realms since Krypton was lost. Nothing magical can pass through it.” Looking at Kara, he added, “You of all people should know.”

Yes, she did know. Even if she never fought Daxamites before garnering Mon-El’s support, it was a knowledge well shared among Kryptonians since the wars had first begun. It was what had made the clash with Daxam so difficult for her people. Whether the metal itself was tempered with magic was to be debated, but there not much else other than true kryptonite that could deflect starfire as Daxamite armor did. That, however, did not mean starforged iron was immune to the unnatural abilities of these new strange beasts.

“Stubbornness is not going to win this battle, Mon-El,” Kara said. “You have not seen these creatures and what they can do. They are...nothing like anything I’ve known or read of before. We have to be cautious.”

Mon-El did not look pleased, but he acquiesced to the pointed look she served him.

Henshaw turned to Kara. His gaze was guarded, she realized, and part of her wondered if he, too, knew her beyond these walls. “You have seen the beasts?” he questioned.

“Yes.” The first time she’d ever laid eyes on them, she’d been filled with an unsettling dread that was both familiar and not. Something about these creatures was old and profoundly wrong, and it had struck her with the same sense of foreboding as the destruction of Krypton had when it was foretold by her uncle. An ancient, inevitable knowledge. The kind of dread that sank deep into her bones with a suffocating and relentless weight that might never be dislodged so long as she lived. “I tried to engage, but they were faster than I expected.”

There was a pause, then the unmistakable lilt of surprise as Henshaw asked, “They...fled?”

Alex, Kara noticed, moved just enough to allow the light to fall across her face. And when Kara glanced to her, she saw the dark expression clearly; Alex was _furious_.

Kara had never told her sister about the shadowbeasts she’d found.

She looked back to Henshaw. “Yes. I went to investigate attacks on a small village on the border of Metropolis and Blüdhaven-- or what is left of it, at least.” Upon returning to the mainland, the shock of its destruction had left Kara reeling; Blüdhaven was a small country, and while she had never ventured very far across its border, she had known a few good souls to come from its war-torn soil. Metropolis’s neighbor had been similar in its efforts to expunge magic, but theirs had ultimately ended in a bloody, merciless fight to the death until no one was left to pick up the pieces. It had been long divided between two factions of rivaling royal courts: one in favor of destroying all traces of magic, as Metropolis did, and the other obsessed with the power afforded to them by use of the very same source. There had been thousands of innocents caught up in that war, magical and non alike, and just the sight of the abandoned wasteland had dredged up the grief and memories of her lost homeland as a fresh wound. She’d gone to Granville mostly because of the strange reports of attacks and disappearances, but also to pay homage to those just beyond the border in Blüdhaven who never had the chance to escape. “The village was safe enough, but I encountered a couple of the beasts on the outskirts, close to the border.”

The silent echo of Blüdhaven’s history was enough to tame some of the pressure in the study. Henshaw’s rigid posture relaxed in the faint slump of his shoulders, and Mon-El and the other men in the room cast their gazes to the ground. Although Queen Lillian did not seem affected, Kara could tell she felt the same drop in the tension as it rippled from person to person. When she looked to Lena, the Princess’s eyes were shining in the dim light, and there was a hard set to her jaw that suggested she, too, was aware her country flirted dangerously along the same path.

Kara cleared her throat. She was not here to reminisce over memories and the reminder of potential futures. “There were two. They seemed to have a den of some kind carved out of the bedrock at the base of the cliffs. When I approached, they made the most Gods-awful sound. It was...unnatural. Wrong. Like the wail of a babe and something horrible,” she recounted, shaking her head. The memory alone made her want to shiver with revulsion. The wisping mass of shadows and tendrils, formed roughly into the shape of a human skeleton, though the limbs were twice as long and lost the shape among the wavering mist that rose from its deformed figure. She remembered the glimmer of eyes-- sometimes too many to count, and others the perfectly round eyes of a man glazed in ruby, settled into what might have resembled a skull before the flicker of the darkness shaped it into something else.

And the teeth. So many teeth.

There was no true way to describe what she witnessed or the disturbing fear it had instilled within her, and part of her envied Mon-El’s bright-eyed, naive faith for all of the innocent bravado it embodied. It would not last long; soon, he too, would understand that darkness incarnate was not an enemy to be felled by the mere stroke of a blade. Kara exhaled slowly and finished, “I tried to fight it, but it evaded everything I tried. I grazed one of them, but their forms changed too much and too quickly to know exactly what I struck. They both ran off afterward. I made sure to bury the den they left behind.”

Sir Henshaw nodded slowly, contemplative. “We know they can be hurt, at least. Killed even. A company of our knights managed to bring one down two weeks ago. But that was one by itself. It troubles me if these things continue to move in pairs, or, God forbid, in packs,” he said. Everyone followed his line of sight as he tapped a forefinger on the map spread over the table. Kara noticed several figurines of dark stone clustered around various sections of the map, which, after studying the left side of the diagram for a short moment, she concluded were the forests to the west of National City. Beyond it sat a line of black stone figures.

Kara pointed at the northwestern corner. “This is where I saw them,” she said, and immediately Henshaw moved a figure into place.

“Our scouts have determined a number of them along the border to Modora as well. We have kept contact with King Fando, but he insists on keeping matters in his own hands and will not open the border to outside aid. He claims the beasts have not made any headway into his country, though he’s begun to close off all trade from Metropolis along that side,” Henshaw said.

“A precaution, perhaps?” Mon-El suggested, but Kara saw the concern in his frown as he stared down at the map. As he should be; Modora was the kingdom between this one and his own. If the beasts were already invading into King Fando’s country, then Daxam was not far behind.

“Perhaps,” the General said, though he sounded no more convinced than the prince.

Queen Lillian made a noise of dissatisfaction. “Prince Mon-El, has there been any word to the north about this?”

He shook his head. “No. All I know of the shadowbeasts is from what Princess Lena wrote to me in our correspondence,” he said, and for a moment he and Lena met gazes to exchange some sort of silent thought that Kara could not decipher.

“As far as we can see for now, they don’t appear keen on moving far inland,” Sir Henshaw resumed, sweeping a finger in a short arc to follow the rough outline of Metropolis’s western and northern borders. The east was passed over, as National City was nearly built onto the east-most shores that Metropolis had to offer, thus the wall of ocean afforded them enough protection from invaders without boats. But when he reached around to the south, he stopped. “Except for here. We have reports of sightings as far north from the border as Blue Valley.”

“Blue Valley?” The queen echoed, and for the first time, Kara heard something akin to alarm creep into Lillian’s otherwise stony voice.

Her General’s expression was grim. “Yes. As of two mornings ago. We received the dove earlier today.”

From behind the queen’s shoulder, Alex moved forward into the full of the light and leaned against the table with both hands splayed over its grained surface. It mirrored the position Kara had taken only a handful of minutes ago, and part of her wondered if anyone else noticed the similarities between her and Alex the longer they stood around each other. She then also wondered if there were any other mannerisms they shared and were not conscious of; little gestures could go unnoticed, but Kara had brought herself under scrutiny and would surely be watched as closely as possible. Anything out of the ordinary could spell trouble. Alex was a secret knight, and while she potentially had some privacy for that title, she, too, was too important to pass over without someone noticing small and otherwise inconsequential details. That would have to be discussed with her sister later to ensure no one became cognizant of their relationship through something so insignificant.

“This changes the procession course,” Alex announced sternly, fixing her gaze on her superior instead of needling Kara further with her glare. The two men behind her nodded as she spoke. “It’s too dangerous to take a procession party that far south now.”

“It does,” Henshaw agreed, though he turned back to Queen Lillian.

Kara imagined Lillian might have been frustrated with the change of plans, but nothing close to annoyance crossed the queen’s face. Instead, she shrugged and waved a hand at Lena. “If we must. What do you suggest, General?”

Their attention returned to the map as Henshaw took up a red figure in his hand and moved it from the circular shape of National City across a section of plains and hills to a smaller, less uniform drawing of a town just a few leagues south. “We can reach Charlton’s Point in two day’s time,” he said, “and from there, Coast City, Star City, and Midvale, which will be as far south as we should go. Won’t take longer than a week at most. Then,” he moved the figurine along the points, touching down on each inked version of the cities as he mentioned them, before setting it for a moment over a larger settlement in the west, “travel to Central City, Gateway City, and Violet Valley. With two days of travel between them, the procession will return to National City well before the princess’s birthday. I advise not to continue it aftward.”

“That’s a quarter of the country,” Lena said sharply, staring at the General.

“A quarter more than you should be going, considering the danger of you going at all,” her mother said, eyes narrowed. Kara thought the reason Lillian gave did not match the darkness in her expression. But for the briefest moment, something like concern surfaced in the queen, and Kara was left questioning whether Lillian truly valued the life of her daughter, or if something else overruled her interest in Lena’s survival.

Lena shook her head. “I will _not_ be cowed into hiding,” she said, so firmly that the sharpness of her voice almost reminded Kara of Lillian. “What would they think of me, a queen who locks herself away in her tower at the first sign of danger?”

“They’ll think you smart enough to keep your head on your shoulders where it belongs,” Alex remarked, somewhat dryly.

There was a fire in the princess that Kara marveled at as she shot back, “What would be the point of trained soldiers and a _Kryptonian knight_ if I cannot visit more than a quarter of the country of which I’m supposed to rule? Would that not suggest I have no faith in our ability to defend our people? Would you have me believe the Knights of Deo are incapable of protecting their charge?”

Kara crossed her arms. Beside her, Eve looked wildly between those at the table. “I agree,” she said, shrugging lightly when her sister’s disbelieving stare turned back toward her. Mon-El, too, was surprised, though far less murderous than Alex. As much as Kara would have preferred they all wall up in the city and allow the trained population take care of the problem, there was little she could do but follow the lead of the one person who seemed to support her presence. She had to remain in _someone’s_ favor. “If I’m to be the princess’s bodyguard, should I not get a say? At least give your citizens a chance to feel protected and valued.”

Queen Lillian’s lip curled slightly. “ _You_ will not be her guard,” she said, turning on her heel to draw attention to the fully suited knight that, until this point, had remained silent and out of the conversation. “The Guardian will see to the princess’s personal safety during the journey at all times.”

Kara stared at the man for a moment. “The...Guardian?”

“He is the best knight there is to offer,” the queen responded.

“I’ve heard of him.” Kara watched the man carefully. She hadn’t expected _him_ , though, from all of stories she’d heard of the Guardian since her return. Perhaps such stories were more fabrication than truth, considering the feats of the rumored Guardian surely surpassed the capabilities of whoever Kara saw before her now. Curiously, when she tried to look past the metal of his suit, she found that it did not yield to her sight. It reminded her of the thin-framed spectacles her foster father had procured for her long ago. Tilting her head, she added, “I thought he’d be taller.” Taller, wider, generally more imposing than just another man strapped to the teeth in plated armor. She’d known more than enough soldiers like that in her time, and none of them lasted long enough to earn more than a nod of respect among their peers-- much less the infamy of this supposed “Guardian.”

The man’s eyes narrowed behind his helmet.

Mon-El cleared his throat. “I assume my company will be expected in the procession?”

The queen looked at the prince thoughtfully. “Under normal circumstances, no. It would be unwise to allow a suitor to accompany the crown princess on a royal procession,” she said, glancing at Lena. The princess folded her arms. “But considering the danger Lena insists on placing herself in, I feel your presence is justified. I must discuss it with the Council beforehand, however, as you are not her _only_ suitor. No matter how legitimate your pursuit, I will not allow it to sow conflict among those who are actually interested.”

Kara frowned and looked between the faces surrounding the table. “Is this not the council?” she asked, settling her attention on the other princess.

Lena hesitated a moment before giving her answer. “I’m afraid not,” she started softly, keeping Kara’s gaze. There was an apologetic gentleness to her as she spoke. “Aside from myself and my mother, none of the royal court felt...comfortable to hold Council before the Princess of Krypton.” From the queen’s unpleasant expression, Kara gathered that she, too, would have preferred to keep the Princess of Krypton out of royal affairs altogether. At least Lena appeared as though she disagreed.

“And myself?” Mon-El questioned, eyebrows raised.

“Suitor of the crown or not, you still are simply an ambassador for your country and not yet an official of our court,” Queen Lillian said. She tapped at the map on the table. “Not regarding civil matters, at least. These plans are paramount to Lena’s coronation. Whatever we decide here will be discussed with the Council properly. You will be notified if the court decides your attendance is necessary for the procession, in which case you will have free reign to decide your soldiers’ actions.”

“I understand, then, that my company is at the mercy of your court without my say in the matter,” Mon-El said flatly.

The queen lifted an eyebrow. “You volunteered yourself and your men to our cause, not the other way around, Prince Mon-El. The royal procession is not the reason you have brought a band of Daxam soldiers to my doorstep. I will remind you that you are my guest and subject to the wills of my court. Should we refuse to show favoritism toward Daxam, you will take our decision with grace as a proper suitor would.”

Mon-El had the sense to relinquish the argument then, and bowed his head.

Kara, however, did not. She swept around the side of the table, ignoring when both the Guardian and Sir Henshaw reflexively inched toward the queen. “So then what would you have of me here if I cannot be allowed my share in the royal court?” she demanded. Alex, too, moved closer, though toward Kara instead. “Lest you forget, _Queen_ Lillian, that I _am_ of royalty and it is within Metropolian custom to treat your ambassadors as such.”

“I assumed you would want to be kept abreast of the situation,” the queen answered coldly. In the shadows, the blue of her eyes grew smoky in color. There was warning there that Kara did not miss-- could not miss-- but she challenged it full on without conceding so much as the bat of an eyelash. “But you are neither guaranteed royal favor nor offered it in exchange for your assistance. The terms of your agreement with Princess Lena are clear, are they not? Do not expect more than what was written.”

Kara’s teeth clenched together with an audible _click_.

Lena stepped forward and eclipsed the queen from Kara’s view, facing Lillian instead of the furious Kryptonian. She was so close that the light scent of flowers perfuming from her skin and hair made Kara’s nose twitch.

“She is right, mother,” the princess said, with a calm that felt misplaced in the charged air of the room around them. Lena’s voice cut through Kara’s anger, diffusing through her until little was left of her frustration but the same wavering confusion that never failed to surface whenever Lena spoke. No-- not confusion. Wonder? She seemed to be feeling a lot of that lately. “We cannot keep hiding her away like some shameful child. The entire country already knows she’s here. There’s no point in pretending she doesn’t exist.” Kara heard the venom slip into those words, and evidently Queen Lillian did as well, for the older woman’s scowl deepened. But Lena continued just as evenly, “The Lords and Ladies of the court may want to cower behind their titles and the old laws of our kingdom, but nothing of that changes the fact that Princess Zor-El is here, _now_ , and is willing to lend us the strength and power of a starblood to protect our people, despite our misgivings. We would be well advised to treat her with the same dignity-- and Prince Mon-El, for that matter.”

Queen Lillian stared at her daughter for a deathly silent stretch of seconds. Kara could see the turmoil behind her eyes as she struggled with whatever inner argument Lena had forced upon her, until finally the queen’s lip twitched in what Kara hoped was concession.

She exhaled sharply from behind her teeth, and said, “Very well. I will make...arrangements for the Prince and _Princess_ to attend the royal court.” Her gaze snapped to Kara standing behind her daughter. “I should remind you, however, that our laws remain unchanged. If at any point you are considered a threat to my people, you forfeit whatever immunity my daughter has granted you, and your life is subject to the wills of the court. So I suggest you tread lightly, or you may find yourself in deeper waters than you bargained for.”

The threat was not vague. Kara, however, took it in stride and merely lifted her chin in acknowledgment. The queen was going to be a problem, that much was certain; Kara would have to keep a careful eye out for whatever scheme she might concoct. There was too much that could go sour too quickly. One misstep, and Kara might find herself faced with more than just kryptonite jewelry. And what was to keep Lillian from claiming her a threat before Lena’s coronation took place? It was a mystery she hadn’t done so already.

The queen then turned from Kara to face Prince Mon-El again. Though she still appeared distrustful, there was an element of begrudging acceptance as she said, “What number of foot soldiers have you brought?”

“Not enough for a proper army,” he admitted, sighing. “I was not...aware of how difficult an undertaking this would be.”

Kara had to hold back a huff of breath. Of course he hadn’t been aware. It wasn’t as if Princess Lena had asked him for aid, much less the dangerous task of escorting a Kryptonian across the border so that their kingdom might have a proper chance of survival. They hadn’t asked for a hunting party.

“I have a hundred men of my infantry with me,” Mon-El said. “Two score of those are cavalry.”

“Archers? Knights?” Henshaw pressed.

“All of my cavalrymen have been knighted,” the prince answered, somewhat proudly. “And all my men skilled with a bow.”  
Henshaw did not look impressed. Kara wasn’t sure he was capable of showing it, though. Looking to his queen, he motioned toward the door by the small lift of a hand. “I think it would be best to introduce them to our own soldiers,” he said. “If we are to be using the Daxamites going forward, we should get them settled among the rest quickly.” He glanced back at Mon-El. “The Order of Deo has unique weapons and armor for the shadowbeasts. We can provide the training for these, but I will leave the discipline of your soldiers to you. You have fought with these men before?”

For a brief moment, the tips of the prince’s ears turned red. “Yes, sir,” he said with a nod. Though it was a hasty response, Kara knew it to be true. It had been her, after all, that they had fought against. “They are good men. Whatever we need to know about these beasts, they will learn it quickly.”

“Good.” Henshaw turned to Kara, eying her for a pause before adding, “And you will need to become familiar with how our military operates. I won’t have you out on your own doing God knows what.”

Kara folded her arms. “The Order of Deo would put a leash on me?”

The look in his eye remained. “If we must,” he said, and she knew he meant it.

“Mother and I will get things sorted with the court,” Princess Lena said. She stepped back from where she had positioned herself between Kara and the queen, and looked to Kara with a smile. “As soon as I am finished, I’d like to join you in the courtyard. Perhaps give you a proper tour of the grounds?”

Despite the continuous aggravation she was subjected to in this room, Kara found herself returning the princess’s smile, though it was small and polite. “I would appreciate that, your Highness,” she answered. She didn’t necessarily need a full tour-- the aerial view of the castle was plenty enough to know her way around the grounds-- but a chance to speak more to Lena, to figure her out, and learn how to better integrate herself into Metropolian culture would do Kara a world of good. If she had Princess Lena, soon to be Queen Lena, on her side, she stood a better chance at abolishing their old laws and ushering forth an era of peace and prosperity for both their people.

That, and finding out what happened to Jeremiah.

Mon-El tapped a knuckle against the wood once to draw their attention. “So then, when does the princess embark on the procession, anyway?”

Henshaw grunted. “It was planned for tomorrow,” he said, “but the arrival of our new guest--” a pointed glance toward Kara, “--disrupted the progress. Once we get her settled and our company prepared, I’d say two days before we leave. Normally we would extend the procession for a few weeks following the ceremony, but considering our new enemies…” He shook his head. “It cannot be risked.”  

Kara wanted to agree. Her first instinct was, in fact, to convince Princess Lena that extending the procession by any amount-- or going at all, really-- was too dangerous of a journey to allow the new queen of Metropolis to take. It surpassed risk and went straight into the territory of reckless. But Kara recognized the fire, that deep, simmering flame of determination. If Princess Lena would not follow the guidance of her own advisors, for what reason would she listen to a princess of a lost kingdom? Kara could at least be there to lend her aid, should the procession come under attack.

The queen let out a sigh. “Take them to your men,” she told Henshaw, gesturing toward Kara and Mon-El with a brief flip of her hand. “Get them acquainted. Master Schott--” the young man in question straightened like a rod as she regarded him with a short, disinterested glance, “--prepare as many horses as you can. I expect the metalsmiths will compensate for the Daxamites. Have them ready in two days’ time.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” he said with a bow, though when he righted himself, Kara caught his uneasy glance toward Sir Henshaw. “But, if I may-- we don’t-- I mean, there aren’t enough horses for a full company _and_ the royal guard, unless we pull mounts...from the...common…” He shrank in stature under the queen’s intense glare and finished, “I mean, of course. I’ll find them.” Under his breath Kara heard him mutter, “somewhere.”

Queen Lillian looked barely convinced of this, but turned away from him. Lena followed behind as her mother made for the heavy door. “Then I will leave you to it,” Lillian said, though she addressed the full room instead of the stablehand, who kept his gaze secured firmly on the chair in front of himself. When the queen’s gaze fell to Kara, it narrowed, and then she swept out of the room without so much as a parting farewell.

Eve let out a loud sigh of relief.

Lena paused in the doorway and smiled back at her guests. “I should return within the hour,” she said, and then with the dip of her head, she too was gone.

Kara watched the door swing shut behind them.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting,” Mon-El remarked, frowning at the door as Kara did. He looked to Sir Henshaw and the other men. “Not much of a council without the actual Council, now is it?”

Henshaw shrugged. “It is not my place to comment on the doings of our queen,” he said. “You would do best to keep your judgments to yourself.”

Kara waved a hand. “Regardless of what we think,” she said, before Mon-El could open his mouth to retort, “Your _queen_ would do herself a service to be courteous to her guests. Certainly your own princess sees the value in it.”

There was a hard look to the man’s face as he gazed at Kara. “And you would do yourself a service not to instigate an argument every time you share a room,” he growled back, “yet here we are. I am not your confidant. If you have an issue with the way Queen Lillian runs this country, I advise you either bring it up as an official complaint in the royal court, or _leave_.”

“That’s enough,” Alex said, loud and sharp enough that Master Schott jumped and everyone else turned to her in surprise. Though there was still an element of anger to her expression and posture, Alex composed herself and evenly met the gazes centered on herself. “We need Princess Zor-El, Hank. It was _your_ idea to have her come here, after all.”

Kara blinked. When she looked to the General, he was scowling at Alex.

“Is that true?” she prompted, her frustrations momentarily forgotten. “I thought Princess Lena was the one who brought me here.”

“Well, technically that was me,” Mon-El said with a smile.

Kara, unamused, ignored him.

“On paper, perhaps,” Henshaw said, likewise dismissing the prince. When he looked back to Kara and met her gaze, there was something in his expression-- something profound-- that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Alex looked to Kara. The same look was in her sister’s eyes, and suddenly Kara recognized it as knowledge. Fear. She and Henshaw knew something that Kara didn’t, and for some reason, it worried them both. “Princess Lena would not have known you existed, had it not been for him. He is the one responsible for making sure you ended back in Metropolis.”

“Back?” Mon-El echoed.

Kara folded her arms. The stablehand and the Guardian were both silent, but she felt their stares on her skin as she faced her sister. “Back,” she repeated. Part of her almost revelled in this-- how would it feel to the Order of Deo to learn that the last royal Kryptonian had been living in their homeland, undetected, for years? That she’d avoided their attentions and evaded their hunt without so much as a scent of her true nature? They had already missed discovering her cousin before he revealed himself. And now her? It was almost poetic. Glancing at Henshaw, she continued, “When I was found by Kal-El, I was brought here to Metropolis. I’ve lived here for eleven years.”

Sir Henshaw did not look surprised. Kara found herself concerned about that.

“Years? Then why were you on the other side of Daxam when I found you?” Mon-El asked. He looked back and forth between the lot of them, confusion written plainly across his face for all to see. Kara made a note to reprimand him for that later; his lack of royal composure was another headache in her constant attempts to reform him into a proper prince. He was getting better and making leaps and bounds-- at least in comparison to where he started.  

“I left two years ago,” she said, sparing him a glance, “to train with the strongest warriors known to the world. They gave me a purpose when I had none here. When my cousin disappeared, it gave me reason to return.”

The confusion lessened only somewhat, and Mon-El’s frown remained.

“And good reason it is,” Alex said, exhaling softly. “We need you, Princess Zor-El.”

“Do you?” Kara looked to Henshaw instead of her sister. “Because General Henshaw was willing to let me leave just a moment ago.”

Instead of rising to the bait, or reacting at all, Henshaw seemed to deflate. Suddenly, she could see the tired old man within him, as if he had somehow seen countless years and the cycle of wars that filled them. He’d seen darkness, faced it, fought it, and was somehow still whole-- or, whole enough-- to lead an army. She saw it when he settled his gaze on her again, in the depth of those dark eyes, more vast than the void of night she’d stared into seven hours ago.

“There is much about this kingdom that you don’t know,” he started. His voice was low and rough, but now Kara recognized it as just a quality of his speech and not an expression of anger. In it, she heard exhaustion. “Its history is as dark and terrible as any other. And now, its fate rests on a precarious balance. As much as we need your help, I will not allow you to jeopardize it further.” His mouth set firmer, yet somehow, there was more softness in the corners of his eyes as he added, “I know what you have gone through, Princess Zor-El. I know you have suffered greatly. But if I-- we-- are not careful, Metropolis could very well be next.”

Kara looked to Alex. Her sister was quiet, but even in the stony lines of her face, Kara could read the discomfort, the concern, etched through it. The reminder of Blüdhaven was still a recent echo in her thoughts, and she returned to the memory of it. The sight of the country charred and desecrated beyond recognition had originally plunged her into a panic when Kara first saw it from the sky; though she had never truly seen the aftermath of her own kingdom after the volcano violently obliterated her home, Blüdhaven’s desolate wasteland had fueled her imagination enough to picture what the ruins of Krypton must have looked like. Now, trying to conjure the thought of Metropolis meeting the same end…

Kara swallowed back the heat in her throat and nodded. “I understand,” she said quietly.

Eve’s hand met Kara’s arm again, gentle and light.

“Good.” Henshaw cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Let us walk, Princess. Guardian can show Prince Mon-El to the barracks and tents to get associated with our men.” He regarded the prince for a moment and said, “If the Council approves of your presence, you’ll need to be prepared. You and your men have made a long journey, but if we encounter any of those beasts on the procession, it’ll be the longest and most difficult journey you might ever make. And if you don’t, I need you here to make sure this city stays safe in our absence. Daxam and Metropolis haven’t always been allies, but if this gets worse, we will need all of the help you can offer.”

Mon-El bowed his head forward. Kara could not always tell when the true severity of an issue got across to him, but it seemed that for now, he took the warning to heart. There was a little pride in herself for that, even if it was a small step to take.

The Guardian moved forward, surprisingly quiet in the metal suit that encased him like a shell. Kara saw his gaze slide toward her as he passed, but he said nothing, and she imparted no further acknowledgement to him as he beckoned the prince to follow. Like Sir Henshaw, something about the Guardian struck Kara as vaguely familiar-- like an old memory shoved deep into the recesses of her mind that slipped through her fingers every time it felt substantial enough to grasp. Someone she used to know, maybe, or a face she’d seen in passing. Kara watched them leave, smiling to Mon-El as he departed with the mysterious knight. It would do her no good to dwell on it now; try as she might, the suit did not give to her powered vision. No matter. The Guardian could not hide his face from her forever. Some day, she would know him in truth.

When the silence fell again, Kara realized Eve was still clinging to her arm, though the strength in which the girl squeezed Kara’s bicep had become lax out of the mere security of Kara’s close proximity. This, too, made her heart hurt a little. Poor Eve had suffered so much here. Kara still hoped that whatever came of her involvement in the Metropolian affairs, Eve would be spared any further pain. She had promised her as much.

Sir Henshaw said nothing, so Kara turned to her new lady and said, “Now, Eve, I need to ask a favor of you.”

She expected some measure of alarm or hesitation, but when she looked at the girl attached to her arm, Eve merely blinked up at her with hazel eyes wide in expectant silence.

Kara touched Eve’s shoulder out of reassurance, though there didn’t appear reason to give any. With the queen no longer about to contribute to Eve’s anxiety, the former housemaid’s confidence stabilized. “In my trunk, there is a small black box at the very bottom,” she began, voice hushed. “Inside it is a velvet bag.” After a glance toward her sister, Kara continued, “Lady Alex should know of somewhere its...contents can be sold. Half of it should do for the moment.”

Eve turned to gaze at Alex, a little more wide-eyed now.

“I’ll be needing a seamstress, and perhaps a jeweler. Can I expect this from you?”

There was a slow nod at first, and then, after meeting Kara’s gaze once more, Eve stood slightly straighter and answered, “Yes, my lady. Right away.”

Alex was less easy to read. When Kara turned to her, her dark gaze was incomprehensible. It lingered on Kara for a long moment, then flickered down to the younger girl still holding onto Kara’s forearm.

“And Alex,” Kara murmured, low enough that the men across the table would have difficulty hearing even in the weighted quiet that surrounded them. Alex’s gaze returned to hers. “See to it that Stewardess Crane receives compensation for the loss of such a valuable maid.”

Her sister must have seen the intent in her eyes, for a small smile ticked upward at her mouth.

But before Alex could inquire as to the amount, Kara said, “Not of coin.” Alex’s eyebrow raised. “Two pieces should be sufficient.”

“That’s--” Alex started, but Kara cut through the protest with a dark look.

“I know its worth,” she said, and her sister fell quiet, though she frowned. Alex might not have agreed with Kara’s decision to bestow a small fortune on the steward in the form of rare Kryptonian blue diamond, but she would understand-- as would Stewardess Crane, if the woman was as shrewd as she was unpleasant-- that Eve was worth more than anything that horrible woman could afford in her life. More than the stewardess herself could ever hope to be paid across several lifetimes combined. And that fortune was a direct result of Kara’s-- a Kryptonian’s-- influence. Kara could buy off the entire damn castle staff if she felt so inclined, and she would make sure Stewardess Crane _never_ forgot it.  

Eve looked between the two of them, completely lost.

Kara’s face brightened once more into a gentle smile, and she nudged her lady toward the exit after Alex, who had wordlessly maneuvered around the table to the large door. Eve appeared reluctant to leave Kara alone with the two men, but another encouraging smile had the girl retreating after the leather-clad knight with purpose in her step. Though Kara was likewise nervous to leave Eve out of her sight or on an errand without her company, there was no other person Kara trusted more to keep the girl safe than her own sister, who had done the same for her through the years she’d lived as a Danvers. It was dangerous, setting a young, inexperienced girl on the task of selling Kryptonian blue diamond in a Metropolian market, and likely an underground market at that. But Alex would be there to make sure nothing happened to Eve, or else Kara was liable to make a lasting impression on whoever dared touch her lady out of malice.

Sir Henshaw waited until the latch clicked again before gesturing for Kara to draw closer. Master Schott seemed restless at her approach, though when she met his gaze, the young man brightened considerably.

“How is Comet?” she asked. It was then that she noticed he was holding a book of some kind-- a journal, or perhaps a ledger.

“Great!” he answered with immediate enthusiasm. Then, after flushing slightly pink, he repeated in a more controlled manner, “He’s great. Great temperament, great mannerisms-- just great.”

The amused chuckle she responded with had him blushing fiercer.

“Banshee, on the other hand…” he started, and when Kara laughed in earnest, the young man’s grin stretched wide across his squared face. He had a kind face, Kara thought. A kind face and a good heart. In another life, he could have been fierce and mean; the thick, flat eyebrows and strong jaw would have made him into a scowling, rough-mannered man, if it wasn’t for his relatively thin and willowy figure. But there was kindness in his eyes where there could have been bitterness, and part of Kara wondered if the good humor she saw just beneath the timid countenance was a result of something dark and cruel attempting to snuff it out, only to be blinded by the light he exuded. There was something more to him, something genuine, that Kara liked on instinct alone.

But, if the symbol embroidered onto his tunic sleeve was any indication, he was also a part of the Order of Deo. So perhaps there were reasons _not_ to like him.

She turned to Henshaw, who had been surprisingly quiet. “The Knights of Deo have their own stablehands?” she questioned, lifting an eyebrow.

To her surprise, a small smile surfaced on the old knight’s face. He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Many of our members are not knights,” he said calmly. He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Winn is an invaluable part of our team. He will be of much help to you during your time here.”

Kara could not imagine what other kind of help this Winn Schott could provide beside the care of her warhorse, but she kept her reservations to herself.

As if he read her mind, Sir Henshaw nodded at Winn, and the stablehand offered up the journal to Kara. She took it from him with wary hesitance. It was heavy and leatherbound, with the front cover carved in small, curved knots and stamped with faded silver embossing along the edges. A small cobalt stone gleamed top-center. The pages did not appear properly aligned, for several pieces of parchment stuck out at odd angles from years of thorough usage, and more yet loose-leafed and shoved between the bound pages. It was held together by a length of thin leather cord. She had guessed right; it was a record book of some sort, and there was only one reason she could imagine the Order of Deo would need to keep a record book.

Without opening it, she looked to the General and said, “I could burn this to ash within seconds. You trust me not to?”

He was impassive. “If you do, then the judgment of you being impulsive and brash would show itself to be true. Is that what you want?”

She scowled. Instead of answering, Kara unwound the cord. The leather cracked softly under her hand as she tipped back the front cover and glanced down at the exposed first page.

“ _Kendra Saunders_ ,” she read, “Aged eight and twenty years. Star City. Magical history unknown, though wings have been reported to appear in times of crisis.” There was more writing, but she skipped down to the next name and continued, “Wallace Rudolph West, aged nineteen, Blue Valley. Magic of supreme speed. Garfield Logan, Jefferson Pierce, Artemis--” Kara stopped, staring at the page. She knew that name. That woman had been responsible for showing Kara the way to the island of warrior women. The Order of Deo knew of her? Was she dead, then?

Sir Henshaw met her gaze again. “Calm yourself, Princess. Look again.”

She had half a mind to destroy the book before his very eyes in response, but something held her back. Was it that glint in his eye, that spoke of some secret she could not yet uncode? Or was it Winn, standing with such impatient silence that it looked as though it might kill him to wait any longer? Kara found that to be a bizarre reaction, and thus kept the starfire safely behind her eyes as she returned to the page. There was a sliver of dread rearing its way through her stomach now, cramping at a thought that had suddenly breached her puzzlement.

She read more names and descriptions, and discovered that next to near all of them, a note was penciled in just beneath: ‘alive, secure, documented’. There were hundreds-- every page front and back covered in scrawled names and words. Sometimes the tags differed; ‘alive’ was exchanged for ‘deceased,’ or ‘secure’ for ‘unknown whereabouts.’ This did nothing to appease the discomfort of the reality that the journal had bestowed upon her. Instead it grew, coiling in her gut as she flipped each parchment over in search of a particular name.

_Kara Danvers._

She froze, staring down at her name inked onto the page. _Zor-El_ was written into the space beside it, and beneath that, a rather extensive--and accurate-- summary of her Kryptonian history, as well as that of her eleven years in the Danvers homestead. Kal’s name appeared several times, as did Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah. Even Catherine Grant was mentioned in connection.  

And under it all, ‘alive, secure, documented’ stared right back at her.

Thoughts swirled wildly in her mind. Slowly, Kara closed the book. This made no sense to her. If the Order of Deo was keeping a regular list of magical persons within Metropolis and knew where each of them lived, what they did for a living, and who they interacted with-- why would they not throw such people into a prisoner cell as their law dictated, or worse, had them hung for witchcraft as the human world had hungered to do throughout her childhood? She’d been so careful with her identity as a young girl, but yet somehow the Order had known her still, and watched her without her knowledge? And they knew her now, standing before them, as if she hadn’t pretended to be human among their citizens in full violation of their law for eleven years?

Despite the multitude of questions burning on her tongue, the first thing to leave her mouth was, “Does Alex know of this?”

Henshaw watched her carefully. “Yes,” he answered. “As did her--and your--father Jeremiah.”

Kara stared.

“How do you think he was able to get papers for you so easily?”

She hadn’t thought. She hadn’t believed it out of the ordinary or difficult enough to warrant suspicion. Jeremiah had--as far as she knew-- no issues with claiming her into the family under the pretense that Kara’s home had burned to the ground from a wildfire, and the authorities had been too disinterested in a fumbling young peasant girl to investigate beyond her tearful, soot-covered face and Jeremiah’s well-crafted stories. It had simply worked.

The General understood the alarm in her stare. He nodded slowly, then carefully took the record book from Kara’s hands. “The Order of Deo had a terrible purpose once,” he said, so soft his voice lost the gravel that had so piqued her curiosity. He touched the stone on the front cover. It shimmered under his finger; from its center, a gentle light glowed, growing brighter until the stone itself was shining bright like a miniature star, bathing the rest of the book in its cerulean light. It pulsed once, and then, before Kara’s very eyes, the book disappeared.

In Henshaw’s hand remained the small blue stone, now secure to the surface of a carved wooden cow figurine.

“The goal has remained the same,” Henshaw continued. The figure was tucked into the satchel at his hip. “To protect Metropolis from whatever threat, especially magical, as those battles pose more of a risk to the safety of our citizens. But we know better than to let the ruin of Blüdhaven repeat itself here. We are mediators now, careful to keep the peace before it escalates beyond what cannot be returned from.”

There was a pause. As his words sank into understanding, Kara bristled. “Then where were you when Alexander Luthor took the lives of those he claimed magical in his search to destroy the tattered and broken remains of Krypton?” she demanded in a low hiss, fists clenched at her sides as the raw anger snaked into the growl of her voice. She stepped toward him, teeth bared. “What peace was there to mediate when hundreds of lives were stolen, most of whom who died innocently, accused by neighbors and family alike, when none of them were guilty of hurting another soul? _Where were you when your citizens were_ slaughtered _from the madness of your own king_?”

The overwhelming sorrow she received in response shook off some of the rage building in her chest. The General’s eyes were dark and pained, full of history that even Kara could not wholly comprehend.

“Believe you me when I say,” he said, just as low, “that no one knows the agony of losing a country to a bloodthirsty, murderous tyrant more than I.”

She did not want to believe him-- nor really anything else she’d yet witnessed in that room-- but already there was a spark of kinship that she could not deny. Hank Henshaw was different than any other man Kara had come across yet in these halls. She didn’t know how, or why, but there was a naked truth in his words, in his voice, that Kara could not escape nor ignore. He concealed a terrible truth within himself, and Kara could glean nothing but soul-wrenching guilt from the smolder of his stare.

Some of her anger abated. She sighed, unclenched her fists, and rubbed at the scar at the inner corner of her eyebrow in thought.

“Does Queen Lillian know?” Kara asked quietly.

“She has no idea,” the stablehand, Winn, piped in. “She still believes the Order is responsible for getting rid of everything and everyone magical.”

Kara looked to him, studying his face again. The eager brightness in him had dimmed, no doubt a result of the discomfort wrought between her and his superior. “The Order risks execution for treason,” she said. “Aiding the escape and protection of magical beings is punishable by death, is it not?”

The young man paled slightly.

“That is the penalty, yes,” Henshaw said, though he shrugged. “But the Order of Deo does not answer to the Crown. We are a holy order, and thus beyond the control of one queen and her followers.” He took a moment to exhale, then said, “But we are not without fault, of course. When Prince Alexander was ready to take the throne, many of the Order still believed in the old laws and feared the Great Kal-El. Some were ruled by fear, others by jealousy as the prince was. Though we take a holy oath, we are still men at heart. And men are easily corrupted and led astray by darkness.”

This, Kara knew. It was a major principle of Kryptonian ideology and why the starblooded were so few and far between when she was a child. Even if the volcano hadn’t destroyed her country and killed whatever remained within its glorious valley, magic itself had been disappearing from the Kryptonian bloodline at an unsustainable rate. Within generations, perhaps even in her own lifetime, the starblooded would have vanished on their own. Rao’s blessing had been bleeding from her people like a stuck pig long before her kingdom suffered its fatal blow.

And it was the foul hearts of men that caused such a purge.

“The Order was broken during Prince Alexander’s endeavors. We had been at odds for some time before then about magic, but the prince’s madness was like a contagion and became twofold through our ranks. It divided those of us who sought to protect life in all its forms, and those ruled by their hatred. Many of those battles were between my own soldiers. I lost many, and more still when they realized we would not return to our bloody purpose. The Order as you see it now still believes that magic is dangerous, but only in the wrong hands and by those who carry darkness in their hearts.”

Though Kara should have felt glad to hear this, or at least some inkling of relief to know she would not have to face the threat of being hunted by the man she stood not two paces from, there was a weight in her stomach that would not leave. She was uneasy, and for what reason she could not quite articulate.

“Why would Alex not tell me?” she asked. “She’s let me believe, all this time, that the truth of my being would bring about my death if anyone knew. That the Order she was recruited into would spell disaster for me and Kal should we ever be discovered.”

Henshaw shook his head. “Do not forget, Princess, that the Order of Deo works in secret. Besides you, and now Prince Mon-El and your Lady, only the queen and her daughter know of us. All others believe we belong to the Crown as faithful servants of the law like any other knights. The law still remains, so if you and your cousin had revealed yourself any sooner, you very well may have forfeited your life. It was only recently that the Order changed its stance on the existence of the magical, and not even Queen Lillian nor Princess Lena know of that. Your sister was sworn to secrecy; she did so to protect you.”

Kara blinked. “Lena doesn’t know of this?”

“No,” Henshaw said. “Though I’m sure she suspects something has changed. She’s sharper than most give her credit for.”

That was a potential issue, then. Kara frowned. Though perhaps not too much of one-- if she had to choose anyone to facilitate the transition of Metropolis from its viciously fearful roots to a safe haven for all peoples, Lena stood to be her best chance. At least until Kara was given another reason to think the princess wasn’t ultimately good at heart, which given the current record, could happen at any point. The biggest obstacle would be to keep this knowledge away from her mother.

“We should be going,” Winn said, looking between her and his General with a small tick of nervousness. “Dally too long, they’ll get suspicious.”

Sir Henshaw nodded. “There will be time to answer more questions later, Princess,” he said, gesturing toward the door with a small sweep of his hand. “Walk with me. There’s something else I should show you.”

There seemed to be too many surprises today, but Kara did not protest as they led her from the small, stale room. It was becoming a place of agitation to her and she was glad for any reason to be rid of it.

 

Winn stayed with them for a short time as they strode down the halls, Kara’s guardsmen at their heels. He dismissed himself as soon as they broke through the doors to the outer castle grounds, muttering something about gathering the horses for the procession and a few other choice words that made Kara smile.

“I like him,” she said, just as soon as the stablehand was out of earshot. She and General Henshaw watched him scurry across the bailey and to the stable on the far side, where she could see a few horses tacked and ready. There was a brief glimpse of Comet’s pale nose, and the unmistakable shriek of Banshee as the mare thumped against her stall. A younger stableboy, this one yet to blossom out of childhood, met Winn beside a towering stack of hay bales. Winn made a joke and the boy loosed a peal of bright laughter.

The smell of smoke, mud, and wet grass was a refreshing change of pace from the stuffy space she’d been subjected to that morning, and Kara took a moment to inhale deeply, relishing the crisp of the morning breeze as it whipped through the skirts of her dress and across her face. The grounds were bustling with activity, from soldiers to metalsmiths and the plethora of women in charge of running errands between them all. At one point, she even caught sight of a small child toddling about with an armful of freshly whittled arrow shafts. The noise filled her with an old warmth; the clatter of steel swords, the _thunk_ of heavy boots against the damp earth, the chatter of people as they toiled over forges or hides, the ringing strike of a hammer against a hot iron, the braying of a horse (likely Banshee, again), and the hundreds of other small, independant sounds that melded together in a harmonious song of work and duty.

Henshaw grunted softly. “As do I. There aren’t many people in the world that know animals as he does.”

“Oh?” Kara tilted her head slightly, observing Winn as he directed the stableboy.

“He has a certain way with them,” he explained. “An understanding. He can figure what any one animal needs or wants faster than anyone I’ve seen before, and how to bring about the best in them that no one else thought to. He can even figure which horse works best with which man, and where their greatest strengths lie.”

Winn ruffled the blonde mop of hair on the boy’s head, then continued for the stable entrance. The sleek black face of a horse swung out of its stall immediately to greet him, and Kara watched as he touched the horse’s chin, then nose, then stroked up toward the animal’s cheek.

“Is he…” Kara trailed away, suddenly more aware of the suited guards still standing close by. Though there was ample space between herself and her guards, she did not consider them trustworthy enough to overhear such a dangerous question.

“Fae?” Henshaw finished, soft enough for only her to hear. He held back a small laugh and shook his head. When she glanced up at him, he was smiling. It was a friendly smile, and it almost startled her in its gentleness; she hadn’t thought the rough man she’d met back in the study was capable of it. Perhaps Princess Lena wasn’t the only one capable of dashing Kara’s expectations against the rocks. “No. He’s human. Sometimes, Princess, an extraordinary person is just an extraordinary person. There needn’t always be a reason for it.”

Kara’s thoughts trailed back to Lena again, and she wondered if the other princess existed in the same vein; was she simply an extraordinary person? Or was there something else to Lena that made Kara’s stomach twitch in different directions?

When she did not respond, Henshaw beckoned her with another wave of his hand. “Come. The Guardian should be finished introducing the prince to our officers. We will take a shortcut and meet them at the barracks.”

Kara followed beside him at an easy pace, watching folk move about the ward as they labored. A few caught sight of her and stopped to stare, and others yet moved far out of her way, heads low and eyes everywhere but in her vicinity. A few children gave her small smiles before they were herded away by their mildly panicked guardians.

“So,” she started casually as they made across the bailey toward an arch in the inner wall, “You and Lady Alex wear the same armor. Would someone not wonder why it is different?”

There was an amused hum. “We are high-classed bowmen, Princess Zor-El,” he answered, seemingly unperturbed by her wordless reference to the Order’s existence, “Not many wear the armor we do. Lady Alex even commands her own score of archers.”

She knew Alex was an expert archer, but her sister never told her _that_.

They passed under the arch and up a small flight of stone-laid steps.  The passageway twisted up and around the walls, splitting into several other paths and covered alleys that snaked around the castle in an endless labyrinth. The noise of the inner bailey faded, replaced only by the faint echoes of her guards’ bootsteps as they strode behind her. This castle had once been a fortress; if she hadn’t a guide to show her the way or the power to see through the stone, Kara would have lost her way near instantly.

 

_Look up._

 

Kara almost stumbled out of surprise, but managed to keep her composure long enough to side-glance the General from the corner of her eye. His dark gaze was focused securely on the passage in front of them, unaware of the voice that had abruptly entered her mind.

 

_Upwards, Kara._

 

That had been his voice, hadn’t it? She frowned, brow wrinkling in confusion. No, maybe it was another voice-- the voice of someone she knew, a memory so long untouched that it felt more like a dream.

She looked up. The interior of the passage was cloaked in shadow by the curved ceiling that the masonry had built over the path. They walked further, and Kara saw nothing.

Then, suddenly, as the light from another arch poured through, Kara saw something glimmer in the darkness. She squinted; it was faint, faded either on purpose or from age, but she could still make out the barest hint of gold that graced the stone above her head in small, thin shapes. Some were rounded loops, and other short lines and dots; the symbols themselves followed the passage ceiling in groups of three, and it wasn’t until Kara had reached the end of the path that she suddenly realized what it was.

It had been thirteen years since she’d last seen the language. Though she could never truly forget it, the sight of the kryptonese almost struck her as foreign. It was a script tucked so far into her memories that to see it by someone else’s hand scrawled above her nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs.

And then, like a floodgate, she was awash with comprehension, and she had to force back the tears in her eyes as the symbols whispered their meaning.

 

El Mayarah.

 

Kara looked to Sir Henshaw. He was watching her now, steady, as if merely waiting for her to continue onward to the outer bailey. But when she caught the quickest flicker of red across his eyes, another dam within her broke, and this time Kara could not hold back the force of it as the tears crowded in her own eyes.

“J’onn?” she whispered, and the man she knew as Sir Hank Henshaw smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not a very kara-lena interactive chapter, sorry. But plot things!! Also, lots more interaction between them next chapter, don't worry. :D  
> As always, I'm inspired by your comments and enthusiasm. You're also welcome to come say hi at my tumblr @contagiousiridescence.

**Author's Note:**

> -sweats-  
> Phew. I hope y'all enjoy it. I'm super excited about this au, as its the first and only fanfic I've ever actually heavily planned out in advance.  
> Just FYI, next chapter is from Kara's POV.


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